


Other Ricks and Mortys Die Every Day

by MeganRosenberg



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anger, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Dimension Travel, Drug Use, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Rage, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-01-24 00:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21329047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganRosenberg/pseuds/MeganRosenberg
Summary: Through no fault of his own, Morty get switched with another Morty and ends up in a dimension where everyone is in an endless irritable, violent rage. Morty is stuck with an overly angry and violent Rick while Rick winds up with an even more violent and destructive Morty.
Comments: 89
Kudos: 215





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: There are two Ricks and two Mortys in this story. Most chapters only include one of each, but there are a couple times when all four of them are present. I think I did a fair job being clear which ones are in each chapter, but just in case, I'll begin each chapter by stating which versions of the characters we're dealing with. I'm going to call our regular Rick and Morty from the show Rick C-137 and Morty C-137. My other Rick and Morty will be referred to as Angry-Rick and Angry-Morty.
> 
> In chapters where we're dealing with "Angry-Morty" and "Angry Rick," they may be referred to by other names depending upon how the POV character perceives them. Since "Angry Rick" and "Angry-Morty" are not their actual names, sometimes when they are being spoken about or when they come up in Rick's or Morty's thoughts, they describe them with different adjectives, or just as "Rick" or "Morty."
> 
> Another Note: I wrote this legit a year or two ago... I've been uncertain about it as it's got a different sort of tone than my other Rick and Morty stories... It's dark in a different way. Like a lot less dark in some ways and a lot more dark in others. I think people still might like it... I hope so... I guess I've held off publishing it long enough... The thing's been written since about the time I was publishing my other Rick and Morty stories... so what am I waiting for? You can have it:
> 
> xxx
> 
> Chapter 1 Characters:
> 
> POV: Morty C-137
> 
> Other, in order of appearance: Angry Morty, Rick C-137, Angry-Rick

xxxxxx

Chapter 1

xxxxxx

Sighing, Morty looked down at his chest, touching the magnetic tag that had been thrown hastily and without explanation onto his shirt when he arrived here. It had a number on it - 502. That was no doubt so that Rick could identify him when he returned - for he was presently in a room full of Mortys, many of whom looked identical to him.

It still offended Morty that Rick didn't just somehow know which Morty was which... Of course, he couldn't tell the Ricks apart either though... and part of him was just grateful Rick cared enough to get the right version of him back that he even bothered labeling him.

For some reason Rick had decided to leave Morty here rather than to allow him to go on whatever adventure or mission the old man was partaking in today. It kind of annoyed Morty that he was here right now, wasting time he could have spent sleeping, going to school, or just watching tv or playing video games. He wasn't even doing anything productive... Just standing around in a room filled with rejected Mortys - other versions of himself whose Ricks had abandoned them here just as Morty's grandfather had done to him.

As Morty looked around the space, he observed the other boys. A majority of them looked pretty much exactly like him - it was like looking in dozens of mirrors all at once. Like a fun-house at a carnival, but these weren't reflections, and there was certainly nothing fun about any of this.

It was always unsettling for Morty to see other versions of himself, no matter how much he thought about there likely being nothing sinister behind it. Before he knew about other dimensions, Morty used to think up crazy science fiction/horror plots just for fun, and one of the ones he kind of obsessed over until he scared himself was the age-old evil twin/doppelganger plot. He always thought it would be so terrifying to be walking down the street and look across the road only to find himself looking back, or to go up to his bedroom and find someone else in his bed, to pull back the sheets, and see his own sleeping self. It always seemed as though any other version of Morty would just have to be evil in some way or another. Morty was the normal version, and if any crazy mirror-land version of him somehow existed, he'd exist only to try to destroy the original and take his place.

Of course, these Mortys didn't seem to be up to anything nefarious. They didn't exist just to attempt to replace him. They were each their own valid 'original' Morty... It was a little more complicated than the typical 'evil twin' plot line. They were just other versions of him - sort of a 'what could have been' that actually was in another place. They were just as much Morty as Morty himself was, just molded slightly different due to their own slightly different lives. They were normal kids. Regular, anxious, confused, pushover Mortys, just like he was, but it was still weird to see them all.

Most of the Mortys looked somewhat nervous in this room full of different versions of the same kid. Many sat alone, looking around with wide eyes and rigid postures. A couple of the boys had struck up conversations with each other. About 80% of these conversations still seemed awkward and uncomfortable, but the other 20% seemed to be enjoying each other's company.

There wasn't really much else to do in here other than talk to one another. Besides for a few plastic tables and chairs, the room was devoid of future. There weren't any books or games or tv... There weren't even any windows to look out of. It reminded Morty of a giant school cafeteria only with most of the tables missing and not even cheap school food to eat. It figured all the Ricks in existence would choose such a boring, uninviting place to force their Mortys to stay. They didn't care about their grandson being comfortable or entertained. They just wanted him out of their way.

Since he was stuck here anyway, and he pretty much knew what all the other kids might want to talk about, Morty decided he might as well talk to one of the versions of himself. They were probably just as bored as he was. It couldn't do any harm. Morty scanned the room until he found a Morty who looked like he might be a good candidate to talk to. He skipped over all the ones who were already engaged in conversation and decided to approach a rougher version instead. He felt like doing a good deed today - so he tried to find a more miserable-looking Morty. Maybe one who might be lonely. Maybe one who had been in here too long and was being ignored by everyone else, a Morty who needed a reminder that he still mattered. Morty knew if he were trapped here a long time, or otherwise has a worse life than he did now, he'd want someone to reach out and be kind to him... These other Mortys were practically him... so... it made sense.

They all mostly looked identical, but the one he decided to talk to looked tired, yet on-edge, and somehow haunted. He had a hint of dark circles under his eyes, hair that was a bit longer and unkempt than the others, a torn collar on his shirt, and a cautious, watchful stare. The boy looked like he might have been through something traumatic recently. He even looked somewhat skinny. Maybe his Rick had left him here for a long time and truly abandoned him. Maybe he could use a friend.

"H-hey," Morty offered a small smile as he walked up to the other boy.

The other boy stared back, saying nothing, but looking a strange mixture of annoyed and anxious. He almost looked like he was trembling slightly.

Morty swallowed and averted his eyes for a moment when the other kid refused to look away. This was awkward as hell already. He cleared his throat and looked back. "Y-you okay?" Morty asked. "Have you been here very long?" The other boy still stared silently. "Um..." Morty hesitated. Maybe he shouldn't have bothered trying to make friends with the Morty who looked like he needed it. Maybe he should have played it safe and found a more friendly, less-damaged one.

The other Morty continued staring at him. He looked like he was thinking, but wasn't saying anything back. He just stared and breathed in very slow, cautious, measured breaths. Like he was on the edge, ready to lash out at anyone who looked at him wrong.

"Well..." Morty exhaled. "Nevermind then. See ya." He shrugged and turned to walk away.

"Wait." The other boy's voice was low and cold, almost a whisper.

Morty turned back and blinked down at the other boy, who remained sitting on the ground where Morty had found him.

"Where's your Rick?" The boy asked.

Morty shrugged. "I don't know. He had stuff he had to do, I guess. He didn't ever actually tell me. Just left me here. Is that what happened to you?"

The boy shrugged. He was still staring up at Morty, failing to blink as often as Morty felt he probably should have been. He looked extremely anxious, and Morty now noticed he had a bruise on his lower lip. Morty narrowed his eyes. Were the dark circles under his eyes due to him being tired? Or were they bruises.

"Are you alright?" Morty frowned. There were infinite possible Ricks and Mortys. That was something Morty was fully aware of. That meant that every single possible outcome of every aspect of the world did indeed exist. It was perfectly logical to assume that some Ricks might be abusive to their Mortys in a more significant way than usual. Of course, all Ricks seemed to be abusive on some level, but perhaps this Morty was being abused physically... like, a lot.

Anxious-Morty shrugged and shook his head.

"Y-you're not okay?" Morty frowned with furrowed brows, feeling his breath leave his lungs and his stomach flip. What was he supposed to do about this? If this Morty's Rick was physically abusing him, what should Morty do? He couldn't just ignore it. "Did your Rick hurt you?"

Anxious-Morty narrowed his eyes and smirked for a moment before scoffing and laughing.

Morty pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. This Morty was being really frustrating, but he did hear once that abused kids were sometimes the most difficult kids to get along with. He looked over the other boy some more. He had faint bruises on his arms too - they certainly looked finger-shaped, like someone had grabbed him way too hard numerous times. His knuckles were scraped up too.

"You're one of the sheltered ones, aren't you?" Anxious-Morty wondered, seeming much less anxious and much more condescending now. "Like really, really sheltered. Like sickeningly so."

"No." Morty frowned. "I'm most certainly not sheltered. Is any Morty? Rick nearly gets me killed almost every day."

Anxious-Morty shook his head and smirked again. "But you're sheltered for a Morty. Your skin is smooth and un-marked. No scars. No bruises or cuts. You seem nervous and innocent like a little boy. I'll bet your dimension is one of the ones without any sort of apocalypse or massive infection of any kind. You've clearly got it easy."

"Hey!" Morty scowled. "That's not true at all. I've seen all sorts of disturbing shit. I've been through a lot. I don't even live in my original dimension anymore because of the sort of apocalypse that happened there... In the dimension I'm from now - which isn't even mine - I buried my own dead corpse in the yard and have to see my grave out the window-"

"It's not you though, idiot." Anxious-Morty reminded him. He looked legitimately angry and pulled his hands into fists. He was definitely shaking now and looked like he was seconds away from attacking.

Morty took a cautious step back, but continued. "Well, it kind of is... But there's more than that. This past year's been really traumatizing. I have a half-alien son who grew up and tried to take over the world." Morty explained.

Anxious-Morty shrugged. "So?"

Morty exhaled and thought of more things to prove to this other boy that life recently had been no picnic. "I tried to save an innocent life once, ended up getting a bunch of people killed... and had to kill the guy anyway in the end so he didn't destroy all carbon-based life."

"Whatever, kid. Sounds pretty sheltered to me. Why are you so disturbed by other people trying to destroy the world? How is that disturbing? It didn't even happen, so what's the problem?" Anxious-Morty laughed with a cocky grin. "You destroyed your own dimension and then left... So you still have it easy."

"You know what? I don't even have to explain myself to you!" Morty grumbled, turning to leave. "My life's not sheltered. Really awful things have happened to me, but it's not your business anyway, so screw you."

"That's what I thought." Anxious-Morty called after him with a disinterested yet somehow mocking tone.

Morty paused, feeling his hands clench into fists. He had been through a lot... Not that he wanted to share the worst of it with this rude kid he didn't even know... Still, it made him angry that this boy was making light of situations and events he knew nothing about. Calling Morty sheltered after everything he'd suffered through this past year was pretty harsh and inaccurate. The traumatizing experiences he'd encountered were very real, very damaging, and very serious. This kid had no right to claim otherwise.

For a moment, Morty contemplated telling Anxious-Morty about Mr. Jellybean attacking him. He was that determined to prove to this boy that his life wasn't easy and sheltered. But after a quick, calming inhale, he shook his head and changed his mind. He never even talked to Rick about that. He didn't want to relive that horrifying, traumatic moment ever again - not out loud, and especially not to someone who would probably tell him it wasn't even a big deal.

He frowned, but still didn't turn around when he heard the other version of himself laughing a hollow laugh from behind him. "It's not a competition or anything. Don't get all offended. Damn. I'm just commenting the truth. You're sheltered. You're lucky. Don't know why it pisses you off so much, but it's true."

Morty shook his head.

"Your Rick is using this place as a babysitting service, you know." Anxious-Morty theorized.

"So is yours!" Morty spun back around and glared.

"You can't handle your Rick. My Rick can't handle me. You're here so you don't die. I'm here so other people don't die." The other boy smirked a cocky grin.

"Yeah, right." Morty scoffed and rolled his eyes.

The other Morty narrowed his eyes and stared silently back, blinking a few times. He looked like he was thinking, but was once again awkwardly silent as Morty contemplated turning and walking away. Talking to this kid wasn't worth it. He was rude and weird and just stopped talking in the middle of conversations for no reason. Maybe he really was a violent killer. He was certainly strange. It wasn't uncommon for weirdos to end up being dangerous in some way or another.

"What's wrong with you?" Morty finally asked when Anxious-Morty never responded.

Anxious-Morty smiled slightly and shrugged. "Come here." He waved his hand slightly toward himself.

"Why?" Morty frowned.

"I've gotta tell you something." The other boy's eyes had that dark, haunted look again. Morty couldn't tell if he was up to something. Or maybe he was going to confide in Morty somehow - tell him why it was that he was covered in bruises and looked scuffed up, hungry, anxious, and angry.

"What?" Morty stepped closer, letting curiosity get the better of him.

"Closer..." Anxious-Morty requested.

Morty grimaced and hesitated. "Why? Is this a trick?"

Anxious-Morty shook his head. "You wanted to know what's wrong with me... I'll tell you. But you've gotta get closer. I don't want to broadcast it to every little dipshit in here."

Morty frowned again. That was a pretty harsh way to talk about Mortys considering this kid was just as much a Morty as the rest of them. Even so, he stepped closer and bent down so the boy could whisper whatever secret he had to share without being overheard.

Anxious Morty leaned close, but didn't speak quite yet. He simply leaned closer and closer, breathing even breaths that Morty could almost feel due to their proximity.

Morty gasped softly when he felt Anxious-Morty grip his wrist, but it wasn't a harsh grip. He swallowed and remained still.

Then suddenly, without warning, Anxious-Morty's free-hand shot out, palm-up, slamming right up against Morty's nose.

"Ow!" Morty groaned, bringing his hands up to his face and holding his now-bleeding nose as he stumbled back a few steps. He felt tears stinging his eyes as he choked out a somewhat pathetic-sounding whimper. "Why did you do that?" He whined.

When all he heard was laughter from the other boy, Morty could no longer help himself. He wasn't going to play nice anymore. He was through giving this kid the benefit of the doubt. He no longer cared if Anxious-Morty's Rick abused him or if anything else bad happened to him. It didn't matter anymore. If his Rick hurt him, maybe he deserved it.

Before he could convince himself not to, Morty lunged forward, tackling the other Morty to the ground, punching the boy quite hard across the face. He was rewarded with what certainly felt like a much harder punch right back, landing on his cheek.

He soon found himself pinned to the ground with the more violent version of himself holding him down by his arms.

"Get off of me, you son of a bitch!" Morty screamed, thrashing as best as he could and groaning in frustration and gasping in a bit of awe of how strong this kid was.

Anxious-Morty, who was seeming less and less anxious by the second, continued striking out against him until finally Morty felt himself being pulled up off the ground by his arms. A guard of some sort was holding onto him. The other Morty was pulled back in the other direction by someone else.

Morty exhaled and inhaled deep, quick breaths as he glared back at the other kid who was practically growling in the other guard's hands as he struggled to free himself. Morty wished he could hit him again. As it were, Anxious-Morty got in a lot more good hits than Morty did.

"Get their Ricks back here." one of the guards ordered to someone else before glaring down toward Morty, looking from him to the other boy and then speaking to them. "This is not that kind of a facility. You two should be ashamed. This is meant to be a safe place to house Mortys whose Ricks need a place to store them. There's no fighting allowed in here."

Morty frowned. "I didn't start it! He did!"

"You're both leaving." The guard informed them.

"Fine." Morty growled. "I don't want to be here anyway! You know, it's really demeaning to say you're storing us here. We're human beings."

Morty's breaths were still quick and angry as he watched two Ricks show up, somehow teleported here. One looked extremely drunk. The other looked extremely annoyed. Either one could logically be his Rick. They looked mostly identical. Except the drunk one's hair was messy and the angry one had a bruise on his cheek. Morty still didn't know which was his. His Rick didn't have a bruise this morning, but Morty didn't know what the man had gotten himself into since then. The drunk one certainly seemed like a probable candidate.

"Take them with you. They're being violent," the guard ordered.

Drunk-Rick stuck his hands in his pockets and fished out a ticket - probably with his Morty's number on it - to tell which one was his. The other Rick simply stared from one Morty to the next and then toward Drunk-Rick, waiting on the other man to claim his Morty first.

"What's- uggh..." Rick slurred and narrowed his eyes at the ticket in his hand and then squinted toward Anxious-Morty's number-tag. The old man glanced back down at the ticket, blinking slowly. "Two- uh that's a... um... Is that a fuckin' Earth number? What the fuck is that? Seven? Wh-" He finally scoffed and shook his head, grabbing Anxious-Morty's arm and dragging him away. "Whatever..." Drunk-Rick muttered.

Morty felt his mouth drop open. He certainly hoped that wasn't his Rick. It sounded like him. It looked like him... but so would almost any Rick. He certainly didn't seem to have been able to read his ticket though. It looked like he just settled on whichever Morty was closer to him.

"Come on." The other Rick reached out his hand and put it on Morty's shoulder, gripping him rather hard and leading him away.

"W-wait... A-are you sure I'm your Morty? What's your ticket say?" Morty wondered, pulling the magnetic tag off his shirt and offering it to the man. "Five o' two..." He read his number. "Is that what your ticket says?"

"Sure." Rick answered, but didn't even check his ticket.

Morty swallowed and looked around. Drunk-Rick was already gone. No one else around here seemed that concerned with making sure the right Morty went home with the right Rick.

Rick took his portal gun out of his pocket and pulled the trigger to create a familiar green portal in front of them.

Morty shook his head and took a step back. "I don't think I'm your Morty..."

Rick glared at him for a moment before narrowing his eyes and looking him over. He nodded slightly as though agreeing, but then shrugged. "Close enough."

"No!" Morty gasped, stepping back again when the man reached for his arm. "You're not my Rick! I'm not going with you!"

Rick exhaled and scowled. "Yes, you are." he demanded, reaching out and grabbing Morty's arm in a firm, bruising grip.

"No!" Morty screamed, trying to pull his arm away and looking around at the guards who had broken up his and the other Morty's fight earlier. "He's not my Rick! Check his ticket!"

One of the guards rolled his eyes and turned toward the other as they continued whatever conversation they had been having. No one seemed to care that this strange Rick was taking him. Not even his own Rick, who'd just grabbed the other Morty and left without even trying to think it through. The other Morty had longer hair. He was skinnier, maybe even shorter... He looked like he was starving, yet was also somehow unreasonably powerful. How could Rick not know that wasn't him?

xxxxxx


	2. Chapter 2

xxxxxx

Chapter 2 Characters:

POV: Morty C-137

Other: Angry-Rick

xxxxxx

Chapter 2

xxxxxx

Morty let out a small whimper as Rick tugged him along hard enough that he felt he could either follow or have his arm dislocated. They passed through a portal and into a space that was most certainly not familiar.

They seemed to be in a house, but it wasn't the house Morty knew, nor any version of it.

"W-where are we?" Morty stuttered as he shrunk down and looked around himself. There were no lights on in the house, and it was cold and just looked generally run-down.

"Home, dipshit." Rick answered and punctuated his response with a rather harsh slap of his hand against the back of Morty's head. "Go do something so I can get some fucking work done for once."

"What... I... I don't-" Morty stammered.

"Go fucking do something!" Rick screamed, shoving Morty hard enough to knock him back off his feet and onto the splintered wooden floor.

Morty landed with a wince as the uneven wood pressed against his palms. He felt tears in his eyes as he looked up at Rick's back. The man had turned away from him immediately and was looking over something he had stored on a nearby table.

"But-" Morty started.

"Morty..." Rick's voice was cold and he sounded unreasonably irritated. "If I see your face one more time before I finish this project, I swear to fucking Satan, I'm going to beat the shit out of you again."

Morty swallowed and shrunk down further. Again? Did this Rick really not know he had claimed the wrong Morty? "I-" Morty hesitated, almost frightened to bring it up again, since every word he said seemed to anger this version of Rick. He couldn't very well stay silent though; he wanted to go home. "I don't think you..." He paused again. He was being too nice. It wasn't that he thought he wasn't the right Morty to go home with this Rick. He knew he wasn't. This wasn't his house. His Rick wasn't this mean. "I'm not your Morty... You have to take me back." He finally demanded.

Rick turned back around and scowled down at him. "I don't have to do anything. Go jack off or peel some paint off the walls and eat it or something. I don't give a fuck. Just get out of my fucking space."

Morty frowned. "I don't know where to go..." He squeaked, feeling quite hopeless. He was kind of dependent on Rick right now. He was in a foreign place and had no idea how to get back without Rick's help. If the man didn't want to help him, there was nothing Morty could do to get home.

Swallowing, Morty's eyes glanced down to Rick's hand, which was clenching into a fist. Rick exhaled a long, exaggerated exhale. "I don't want to fucking hurt you, Morty, but I'm about to. You need to go."

"Why?" Morty frowned, but took a step back, trying to distance himself from the old man. "I just want to go back. I want to go with my Rick. Is there a phone number I could call to like... you know, one that crosses dimensions? You don't seem to want me here, and I-" Morty was interrupted when Rick finally delivered in his threats and hit him rather hard across his cheek.

With a yelp, Morty stumbled backward until he collided with a wall, at which point he sunk down to the floor, putting his hand on his now-aching cheekbone as he stared with wide, frightened eyes up at Rick. The old man was coming toward him.

Apparently, hitting him once wasn't enough. Rick proceeded to grab his arms and drag him up off the floor, slamming him against the wall. The air was knocked out of Morty's lungs as his back hit the solid surface of the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to shrink down.

"I told you to fucking leave!" Rick growled, pulling his arms and practically throwing him across the room until he hit the table Rick had been standing by before.

As Rick followed the boy's stumbling path, Morty regained his bearings enough to scramble under the table as far as he could, screaming a startled shriek when Rick bent down and began crawling after him.

"Rick, no!" Morty cried, crawling backwards under the table as far as he could and shrinking against the wall. The old man continued following him. "Get away from me!" Morty gasped in a shaking, frantic voice as he kicked out.

Rick took the opportunity Morty gave him by kicking to grab the boy's ankle and drag him out from under the table. He grabbed at Morty's wrists and slammed them against the floor, effectively pinning him there.

"You're not my Rick!" Morty whimpered as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back tears. His Rick fucking sucked, but not like this. "Please let me go back... I don't belong here. I don't want to be here. You don't want me here either... Just- just let me go... Please..."

Morty could feel Rick's heavy, angry breaths as he was forced to remain still pinned underneath the man. Rick wasn't responding, but at least he wasn't hurting Morty anymore either - besides for the rather harsh grip around his wrists.

"I just need you out of my way. I'm trying to fucking fix this. You're extremely irritating. You've got to stay out of my fucking space." Rick explained. His voice had an edge to it. He sounded like he was seconds away from completely snapping, and Morty didn't doubt that the man might hit him again. Unfortunately, there wasn't much the boy could do to stop it at the moment.

"F-fix what? Get me back? I told you-" Morty started.

"Shut up!" Rick slapped him across the face. "Just stop talking."

Morty tried to curl himself away from Rick, but couldn't mange to do so. He decided to remain quiet, as Rick advised. He didn't really have room to argue right now.

"This isn't your dimension. I fucking know that, so don't motherfucking tell me again." Rick growled. "My dimension, this dimension, is all fucked up, and I've been trying to fix it. I need a Morty because I travel to find resources to try to make a cure, but it doesn't matter which Morty. My other one was kind of more trouble than he was worth. I was hoping you'd be less annoying, but you're so fucking clingy. It makes me want to fucking strangle you to death."

Morty swallowed and felt his eyes widen. "Y-you won't though, right?" He winced.

Rick narrowed his eyes. "I hope not." He breathed, squeezing his hands tight around Morty's arms. The man was actually shaking in his anger.

Morty shrunk down further. "L-let me go... I - I'll go to another r-room or something. I'll leave you alone now... I just wanted to make sure you understood that I wasn't your Morty. I... I can go get out of your way... You just ha-have to let me up..."

Rick inhaled a deep, calming breath. He still didn't look too calm though. "I really don't want to be like this, Morty." He spoke.

"L-like what?" Morty whispered. He couldn't understand what was happening. Why was this Rick so violent? His Morty had been too. Was this whole planet just really mean versions of the people of Earth?

"A violent, irritable asshole." Rick answered. "It wasn't always like this. I mean, not to this degree."

Morty frowned. He remained silent and waited for Rick to go on.

"This didn't happen in your dimension. I can see that. Here, various world leaders pissed each other off enough to start a world war... a really big, really significant one. Our own government released a chemical to make its people into better fighters... but it didn't quite go as planned. I mean, we're okay fighters - but only because we get pissed off so easily and get filled with so much adrenaline and rage that we just fucking snap and go off on people indiscriminately. Sure, we could fuck up an enemy, but we'll fuck up just about anyone who irritates us - and were really irritable... I mean, you're still pissing me off just by staring up at me like I'm a monster. I'm fucking not."

Morty tried to shrink further down. "Sorry..."

"Don't apologize like a little pussy. I'm beating the shit out of you for no real reason and you're telling me you're sorry? I don't like that. Don't do that. It's really irritating." Rick advised.

"Sor-" Morty stopped himself with a wince. "I, uh..."

Rick shook his head and inhaled again, blinking a long blink. "I'm trying to cure it... It was in the air, so everyone in the area - possibly everyone in the country - is really violent with the shortest fucking fuses I've ever seen. Fortunately, I'm smart enough that I've got at least an awareness of it. That helps me control it, but honestly, not very well. I'm aware enough to know I need to cure it, and have been trying, but it's taking a while. They released the chemical a year and a half ago. I don't think it's in the air anymore, but people infected by it back then are getting more and more violent."

Morty swallowed. "So, I won't turn violent though, right?"

Rick exhaled loudly. "No, idiot. I just fucking said that." The old man's grip tightened around his wrists. "I've been experimenting on rats - the ones alive when the chemical was released are still violent. The ones born after aren't. I've been creating potential cures, but they don't work. Most kill my rats... and the other rats die of old age. I'm running out of time, Morty. Rats don't live that fucking long. I won't have any infected ones left in a couple months. They'll be too old. They'll all die soon of old age if the failed cures don't kill them first. I'll have to start experimenting on humans."

"C-can I go now?" Morty spoke in a nervous voice. "I'll stay out of the way... You can do your rat science and I'll just go hide somewhere."

Rick stared down at him, increasing his grip for a moment. "Don't fucking hide from me." He spoke in a low, breathy growl. "When I need to know where you are, I don't want to have to fucking search. Stay in the house."

Morty nodded, though he wasn't sure he was really going to obey that request. Why should he? It had been a year and a half, and Rick hadn't fixed whatever this was. What were the chances he'd figure it out now? Morty also wasn't quite sure he believed the story at all. Rick was saying some kind of toxin was released into the air that basically made everyone angry Hulk-like people who couldn't help but to beat the shit out of each other. It just wasn't reasonable. Rick didn't have to be violent. He didn't have to hit Morty and grab him so hard. He could have kept himself from doing that - but he didn't.

"Go then." Rick finally offered, pulling Morty up off the floor and shoving him toward a doorway. "If you leave this house, I'm gonna be so pissed... So don't."

Morty nodded again and quickly but cautiously made his way through the doorway and down an unfamiliar hallway. He didn't know the layout of this house. Did he have a bedroom here? He wondered what happened to Summer and his parents in this dimension. Were they living here too?

Morty shrunk down slightly as he explored the house. He hoped the rest of his family wasn't here. If everyone here was violent, he didn't really want to meet them. Summer could hit pretty hard even when it was just regular Summer. A super irritable Summer who couldn't help but to be violent was a nightmare and definitely was something Morty didn't want to encounter.

He made his way down the hall and into a bedroom with wallpaper peeling off its walls. The window was broken. That explained why it was so cold in here. Morty hugged his arms around himself. He wondered if this was the bedroom of this dimension's Morty. He looked around, trying to determine if it seemed like a room a version of him might live in. The bed was a twin-bed, so it really could have been anyone's room still. Rick didn't have a huge bed at home. Neither did Summer.

Looking around some more, Morty found a book shelf, but there weren't many books on it. It looked like they were just school ones - Algebra, Biology, Romeo and Juliet - that sounded more like Summer, unless it was a school assignment to read the play, which sounded very probable.

Morty made his way to the room's closet, opening the door and finding a row of ten or so t-shirts and some familiar-looking jeans. This was indeed a Morty's room. The clothes were too small to fit anyone else in his family.

Frowning, he closed the closet door and sat down on his bed. He wondered if what Rick said was true - that everyone in this world was relentlessly violent in a way they couldn't control. That would explain the Morty he'd met. That kid was such a bastard... But his behavior could have easily been explained by the possibility of Rick being abusive too. Maybe this Rick was just mean and was lying. His Morty could have grown to be aggressive as a way of lashing out against abuse. After all, the Morty he'd met before seemed to have maybe even a bit more control on his aggression than this Rick did. Anxious-Morty, as Morty decided to think of him, hadn't attacked Morty right away. He'd teased him and egged him on first. But then, maybe it was the irritability that caused people here to attack, and maybe Ricks were just more prone to being irritated than other people. Morty knew at least that his own Rick seemed to get annoyed with him pretty easily.

Morty flinched and cowered down slightly when he heard what almost sounded like a growl coming from down the hall, followed by glass crashing and shattering. "God fucking damn it!" Came Rick's angry voice.

Morty swallowed and looked toward the door. He wondered what just happened. Rick's growl came before the glass breaking. He'd probably broken it on purpose after something else pissed him off.

"Son of a fucking bitch!" Rick's screaming continued. "God damn it, fucking fuck! Fuck this motherfucking shit! God damn it!"

Morty shrunk down when he heard more glass breaking and several loud banging sounds that were most likely other objects or furniture being slammed around.

"Morty! Get in here!" Rick called.

Standing up slowly, Morty took a step toward the door, but paused. His heart pounded in his chest. He knew Rick would get mad and hurt him if he refused to do what he asked... But he didn't really want to go out there. Rick sounded mad. If Morty went out there, he was probably going to end up getting hurt anyway.

"Get the fuck in here, Morty. I'm losing my patience!" Rick's angry voice yelled.

Morty frowned. Losing his patience? The man didn't seem to have any. Morty shook his head slightly to himself, glancing toward the window. The whole house was just one-story. He could climb out that window and be on the ground. There was no risk of falling or anything.

"God damn it!" Rick was screaming very loudly now, and Morty heard his foot-falls coming quickly and heavily down the hall, keeping rhythm with the frantic pounding of Morty's heart.

With a small whimper, Morty dashed toward the window, climbing out and taking off running down the sidewalk. He didn't dare look back and only hoped he could make it to the end of the block and turn the corner before Rick spotted him.

It didn't matter if the Rick of this dimension claimed to not want to be violent and claimed to be able to partially control it. He wasn't controlling it enough. Morty couldn't live with someone like that. For all he knew, Rick's uncontrollable rage could legitimately end up getting Morty killed.

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	3. Chapter 3

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Chapter 3 Characters:

POV: Morty C-137

Other: Angry-Rick

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Chapter 3

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It didn't take long after Morty left Rick's house for the boy to start to seriously contemplate turning back. Sure, Rick was kind of scary in this dimension - in a more significant way than he was used to - but the rest of the world was scary too. For some reason, none of the street lamps were on. All of the houses seemed to have been broken into. There was broken glass and trash everywhere, and cars smashed into each other or into trees, posts, or even into the sides of buildings. It pretty much looked like the world had ended.

Morty swallowed nervously as he slowed his pace down. At this point, he was walking cautiously, cowering down slightly as he looked around himself. Where was everyone? How had this happened? Maybe Rick was really telling the truth. Maybe the whole area was full of overly irritable people who were insanely aggressive...

That would explain all the wrecked cars. Perhaps people were so pissed off that they couldn't even manage not to ram their cars into each other. Maybe there were no street lights (or lights in houses) because no one who worked with electricity had the patience to do their jobs anymore. Morty supposed it did make sense that a new sense of overpowering anger and aggression could very reasonably push the world to its apocalyptic end. Who was going to cooperate enough to maintain things like running water, electricity, hospitals, schools, police stations, or even grocery stores if everyone was constantly attacking each other for every tiny misstep?

People barely managed to control their emotions enough to make it through a day of work even in Morty's regular dimension. He couldn't imagine people pushing through full days of their jobs with no filter forcing them to get along.

Did that mean there really were no police or doctors? No school or grocery stores? Was everyone in this dimension fully on their own? If someone out here decided to attack him would anyone help him in any way if he called out? If he found a phone and called the police would they come? If they did come, would they even help? Probably not.

Morty looked around again. He couldn't see any signs of life. Maybe people were so violent that they killed each other. Maybe he and Rick were the only people left...

"Morty, where the fuck are you? Get back here you little piece of shit!" Rick's voice echoed angrily from somewhere behind him.

With a soft gasp, Morty looked desperately around. He could't let Rick find him. The man was probably more angry now than ever. He'd told Morty not to leave the house. Even when Morty just took too long to leave the room, Rick had attacked him rather viciously. At this point, being found could end in Morty having broken bones - or maybe even worse...

Over to his right, a dark house with all of its windows broken out stood. Morty didn't know what else to do but to find a hiding spot. Without another thought, he ran toward the house and climbed up through one of the holes where a window used to be.

He winced when he felt a shard of glass slice into his hand, but did his best to keep his tears from falling. He couldn't afford to audibly cry right now. Instead, he pulled the glass out of his palm, whimpering and blinking back tears as blood quickly welled up and started dripping onto the floor. Morty bit his lower lip and pressed his bloody hand against the bottom of his shirt, hoping to slow the bleeding down.

"Morty!" Rick's voice sounded closer. "You dumb little fucker! Where'd you go?"

Squeezing his eyes shut, Morty shrunk down against the house's wall next to the window. The longer it took for Rick to find him, the more angry the man was going to get. Morty wondered if he was making a mistake by hiding. It solved one problem, but perhaps caused several more. Either Rick would find him and be more angry than if he hadn't run... or Rick wouldn't find him, and then what? Where would he go? Rick was his only possible way out of here - unless his real Rick figured out he had the wrong Morty and came looking for him... But in that case staying at Rick's house might be his best bet too - his real Rick would look for this Rick to find Morty, right?

"God fucking damn it, Morty!" Rick's voice sounded more and more pissed with each passing second. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into you dumb little son of a bitch! There's worse people out here than me! I don't want to fucking kill you. They do. They won't hold back like I do! Sure, I'll probably beat the fucking shit outta you when I find you, but at least I'll stop before you're fucking dead, you dumb little fucking maggot! Get back out here, right fucking now!"

Morty gulped and shrunk down further against the wall. He'd never heard any version of Rick sounding this mean and angry and violent - not directed at him - and that was certainly saying something, considering Ricks were very well known for their anger and cruelty.

"Come on, little guy... Come on out. It's just your grandpa Rick out here..." Rick's voice had a clear edge to it though he seemed to be trying for a calm voice. "I'm gonna snap your fucking neck when I find you, you little prick!" The man screamed next. "Just come out! You can't hide forever! What, do you think I'm gonna kill you? I need you for my work, you dumbfuck, or else I'd have killed you already!"

The boy remained still and silent as he listened to Rick's impatient voice calling out more threats. The man couldn't even seem to pretend to be nice for five minutes. It seemed like was trying, but he just couldn't do it.

"I better see your dumb little face right here in front of me in five fuckin' seconds. If I don't, when I find you, I'm gonna smother you with my bare fucking hands! Get out here! NOW!" Rick screamed. He seemed to be trying to coerce Morty out of hiding, but was threatening violence at the same time. He couldn't even manage to pretend he wasn't going to hurt Morty if he found him. There was no way Morty was giving himself up to the man now.

Morty held his breath until he heard Rick's voice getting further and further away as the man continued yelling as he walked on. Once he was confident the violent version of his grandfather was far enough away, Morty turned around and peeked up over the window ledge. He couldn't see Rick out there, but he couldn't really see much of anything.

Squinting in the darkness, Morty peered out into the street. Everything was so still and eerie. He swallowed nervously as he saw a faint light in a window further down the street. That must have meant there were indeed other people left... and Rick's screaming had caught their attention. Along with the light, Morty could see a slight bit of movement as a curtain fell back over the window where the light came from. He wondered if the person in that house was horrible and violent too. Maybe he should aim to reach that house... ask them for help... Or maybe he should just stay on his own. Maybe no one in this dimension could be trusted.

Just when Morty felt like he might be able to relax for a half-second, he felt someone grab onto him from behind. Whoever it was had large hands, which clamped down on his shoulders very quickly and unexpectedly.

Morty let out a startled shriek as the mysterious person spun him around and slammed his back rather harshly up against the room's wall.

"Why are you in my house?" A low, raspy voice inquired.

Morty stared up at the shadowy figure with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open. He could barely see this person, but could tell they were tall and muscular. He was fairly certain it was a man.

"Hm?" The guy growled, his voice still low. He shook Morty slightly when the boy didn't answer. "Why are you here?"

"I..." Morty hesitated, trying and failing to shrug his arms down out of the man's firm grip. He very much wanted to run. "I was hiding from someone..." He finally admitted in a small, shaking voice. "I'll go... I didn't know anyone lived here..."

The man stared down at him, but didn't loosen his grip. If anything, his hands only squeezed tighter. It was starting to really hurt Morty's arms.

Morty felt tears stinging his eyes as he stared up at the shadowy stranger. He felt quite certain he had just gotten himself into a lot of trouble. If even Rick would hurt him for no reason in this dimension, why wouldn't this guy do the same? He looked angry, and his hard, bruising hands confirmed his anger.

"You got anything?" The man asked, his voice still so low it was practically a whisper.

Morty shook his head. "L-like what? I don't have anything... I'll go now... J-just let me go..." He tried to pull his arms free, but the stranger only gripped him tighter, causing Morty to wince in pain.

"Any food? Weapons? Water? Where are you living?" The man wondered.

Shaking his head, Morty looked toward the window. He had to get out of here... but how? "I don't have anything. Honest..." He whispered, his voice shaking with unshed tears. "I didn't mean to break in or anything... I th-thought no one lived here. I'm s-sorry... I-I'll just go, okay?"

Morty's captor narrowed his eyes. "I had a son like you once."

"Once?" Morty shrunk down, trying yet again to pull his arms out of the man's grip. It only caused the fingers around his limbs to squeeze tighter. Morty whimpered softly at the pain in his arms. The guy was going to snap his bones in half if he squeezed much harder.

The man nodded. "He was timid and scared of everything, just like you... But then the war started, and the chemical was released. He wasn't like that anymore. Why are you still like this?"

Morty stared back with wide eyes. Was he allowed to answer that? Was it meant to be a secret that inter-dimensional travel was a thing? Would this guy be even meaner if he knew Morty wasn't from around here?

"Answer me?" The man demanded, shaking Morty again and slamming him rather roughly against the wall so that his head hit it.

Morty squeezed his eyes shut and winced at the pain in the back of his head from hitting the wall. "I, uh... I'm not from around here." He answered in a small voice.

"Where are you from?" The man asked, breathing in a shaky breath. He looked like he was growing more and more angry by the second, even though Morty was doing nothing to trigger it. Just like Rick said - everyone here was just angry and violent - for no real reason.

Swallowing, Morty stared up at the guy, trying to shrink down away from him. He didn't know what to say. If he was honest, the guy would either not believe him, or would maybe do something bad, such as go after Rick, steal his portal gun, and go all over all the different dimensions. Maybe he'd find a way to release the chemical all over the multi-verse... He could become a super-villain. 

"Where. Are. You. From?" The man growled again, this time shaking Morty rather violently with each word. "Answer me... or I'm gonna fuckin' break your neck..." The guy let go of one of Morty's arms and reached for his throat.

"I don't know..." Morty winced, slamming his foot down on top of the stranger's shoe as hard as he could. As soon as his foot struck the man's, the grip on his other arm loosened just enough for him to slide out of his hand and down to the floor.

Morty frantically crawled toward the window, gasping and inadvertently letting out a terrified scream when he felt large hands grab onto his ankles and yank him harshly back.

Morty whimpered as he slipped and fell against the floor, hitting his forehead on the hard-wood and squeezing his eyes shut as he kicked out as hard as he could in an effort to stop this man from pulling him away from his only possible escape. "Let go!" He screamed desperately.

"You don't get to kick me, you little vermin!" The man growled as he pulled Morty several feet across the floor. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me where you came from. And if you keep quiet much longer, I'm gonna start breaking bones, very deliberately. Starting with this one." He grabbed Morty's arm and dragged him up off the floor, shoving him face-first against the wall and twisting the limb painfully behind the boy's back. "Where did you come from?" He asked again, squeezing and twisting Morty's arm harder and harder with each passing second.

"Stop!" Morty cried as he could do nothing but hold still and hope the violent stranger would for some reason grant him mercy. He didn't seem to have a choice here. His arm hurt horribly as the aggressive man twisted it back. He had to give in if he didn't want his arm broken. "I'll tell you! Please!" He finally agreed.

The stranger did not loosen his grip. Instead, he squeezed his hand harder and twisted Morty's arm further. "Tell me then." He growled threateningly.

Morty felt tears streaming down his cheeks as his breaths rose and fell rapidly in his chest. "Let go! Please! You're hurting me! Please!" Morty sobbed, pulling at his arm and whimpering when it only made the man grip the limb tighter. "Please don't break my arm! I'm from another dimension..."

The man behind him finally paused, loosening his grip very slightly. Everything was silent besides for Morty's own breaths and heartbeat echoing in his ears. He wasn't afforded a break from the pain in his arm for long though. The grip of the mans hard, bruising hand came back just as strong and the guy began twisting his arm harshly back once again.

"I'm not joking with you, kid... I'm this close to snapping your little arm... Then your other arm. Then your fingers and toes... If I run out of bones, maybe I'll start cutting things off. Your tongue, an ear..." The guy threatened. "Why aren't you like everyone else around here? The chemical spread everywhere as far as I know... You immune to it? Were you in some underground bunker? You some fuckin' rich, elite prick's kid?"

"I'm not lying..." Morty insisted with a shaking voice. "I promise... Please don't hurt me anymore... I'm telling the truth. I promise..."

"You miserable little liar..." the man growled, pushing Morty further against the wall and twisting his arm further and further, slowly, yet still very painfully.

"Stop!" Morty's voice was more frantic than ever as he tried in vain to squirm out of the man's grip. Moving made his arm hurt worse, but staying compliant wasn't doing him any good either. He felt quite certain his arm was seconds away from being broken either way.

"I don't know where you came from... but you're gonna learn quick not to fucking lie to people around here. There aren't many of us left... The strongest beat out the weakest, slowly but surely... So you know what that means?" The man asked.

"No." Morty whimpered.

"It means I'm not someone you're gonna want to fuck with. I've hurt a lot of people, very badly. I've killed. There's a reason I'm here and most others aren't. So lie to me all you want. We'll see where it gets you." He answered, tugging Morty's arm back further, at an awkward, painful angle.

"Please stop!" Morty heard tears in his words and felt them cascading down his cheeks. "I'm not lying... I live with Rick! Rick Sanchez! The crazy scientist! B-but a different Rick in a different dimension. They accidentally switched me with the other Morty... Or maybe not on accident. I don't know... But I came from Rick's house. He lives nearby... Rick Sanchez... The scientist..." Surely people around here knew Rick. He'd probably had something to do with the world ending. Rick hadn't told Morty that detail, but if it were indeed true, it would not be surprising at all.

For a moment, Morty thought the guy finally believed him. The grip on his arm disappeared, but before Morty had a chance to turn around or make a run for it, he heard the familiar sound of Rick's laser gun. That must have been why the man let go... Rick had come to save him - probably not to actually save his life, but perhaps so he could be the one to finish Morty off.

Morty shrunk down against the wall, wondering if he should bother running. Rick had probably killed the guy, and was going to take Morty out next. The boy put his forehead against the wall, hugging his arm to his chest and sinking down to the floor. His arm had narrowly avoided being broken, but it still hurt, not that it mattered. His own death was very likely seconds away.

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	4. Chapter 4

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Chapter 4 Characters:

POV: Angry-Rick

Other: Morty C-137

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Chapter 4

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"I told you not to run off!" Rick screamed as he angrily shoved his laser gun back into his coat. This kid was pissing him off so fucking much and he'd only been with the little bastard for less than an hour. "Is it so much to ask for you to just stay in the fucking house? Do you want to fucking die?!"

"No!" Morty answered back, but cowered down in the corner, hugging his arm around himself and refusing to look at Rick. His shoulders shook with sobs as he pulled himself into a tiny little ball.

"Stop crying, Morty." Rick warned, feeling anger bubbling up in his chest. "It's really annoying... You're frustrating me. You've gotta stop."

Morty continued crying and shrunk down even further. "I just want to go home. I never asked to come here. This is your apocalypse. I had no part in this one. Leave me out of it! Let me go home!"

Rick inhaled a breath, trying to calm himself, but it wasn't working. Morty's crying was really getting on his nerves. That was one thing he hated about Mortys. They had such strong emotions and fears sometimes. It was really irritating, which was something he tried to avoid when he didn't want to end up beating the shit out of someone these days. "Morty, you've gotta fucking stop crying like a little bitch. I'm not trying to be a dick here. I understand you're hurt, and you're scared, but you have to fucking stop. I hate that sound. I hate the fucking sniffling and whimpering. I hate it. It's making me want to put my hand over your face, press down to stifle the noise, and then keep pressing down to stifle your breathing... Until you're dead... Again, not trying to be a dick, but I'm giving you fair warning. That's really pissing me off."

Morty shook his head but still faced the wall, cowering down as though expecting Rick to murder him right here and now. It wasn't too far-fetched a possibility either. Rick could still hear shaking sniffs coming from the boy, indicating that he wasn't able to keep his tears back. His body still shook slightly too. It seemed like the kid was trying at least, but that wasn't enough. The sniffling was still irritating. Rick really didn't want to hurt him, but he could feel himself getting angrier by the second... and he was already so fucking angry.

"Please let me go back..." Morty whispered, still hugging his arm protectively against his chest. "My Rick has your Morty... J-just trade us back..."

Rick felt his own heart pounding in his ears as he stared down at Morty. His cheeks felt hot. He felt out of breath. He was pissed off. So, so pissed off. It was a familiar feeling by now, yet not a feeling he enjoyed. Ever since the chemical was released into the air a year and a half ago, every tiny thing set everyone off like this. Rick tried so hard to control his anger, but it wasn't easy, and he was very rarely as successful as he would have liked to be. Back at the Morty-storage facility, he thought for a moment that taking a more docile Morty might help, but if anything it was making things worse. His own Morty, though angry and violent was somehow less frustrating than this one.

Feeling a growl in his throat, Rick reached down and grabbed Morty's arm, dragging him roughly out of the house and down the sidewalk.

"Wh-what are you gonna do?" Morty whimpered.

"Shut up." Rick growled, squeezing his hand tighter around Morty's arm.

Fortunately, the boy seemed to have given up on fighting and was allowing himself to be pulled along. He also took Rick's advice and stopped bitching and whining for a minute. Rick took this rare moment of silence and cooperation as an opportunity to explain a bit of information that Morty might find useful.

"You might think I'm being a heartless, violent piece of shit here, and maybe you're kind of right... But god damn it, Morty. I try... I really fucking try. You saw that guy back there? The prick who was trying to snap your little arm in half like a twig? He had a kid once. The toxin in the air fucked him up so bad that he fucking killed him. His wife too. He loved those dumbasses, but he fucking killed them. This whole block had families on it. Almost all of 'em are dead." Rick explained.

"You don't have to kill me, Rick." Morty gasped, his voice shaking with tears. "I know I-"

"Shut up." Rick interrupted, slapping the back of the boy's head. "You're pissing me off again. I'm not going to kill you. Not if I can help it... I'm trying to fucking explain something to you. I put a lot of effort into controlling this shit. I'm only human, but I'm so much fucking smarter than all these cunts. I might not seem like I'm holding back, but I fucking am. Damn, if my Morty weren't so little and weak, he'd have probably fucking killed me by now. Even so, I find the will to fucking hold back. I don't want him dead. I don't want you dead... I still get that urge... That rage... That feeling that I've got to destroy someone because they're grating on my last fucking nerve... But if it's him - if it's you... I hold back. It feels next to impossible, but I hold back. You've got to understand that."

"What do I do?" Morty whimpered as he made a good choice for once and didn't try to escape again. "Why can't I go home? I don't want you attacking me all the time. I don't care that you hold back more than some people... It still hurts."

Rick exhaled tiredly, squeezing his hand around Morty's arm and feeling his other hand pulling into a fist. He wanted to hit this kid so fucking badly. "Just fucking cooperate, Morty. I said stay in the house, so stay in the fucking house."

"You were throwing things and screaming-" Morty began.

"And I'm about to throw more things, like your fucking organs, you little brat!" Rick growled. "Do what I fucking say! What's so hard about that!? I'm on the verge of fixing this, but I need a fucking Morty with me to gather the resources needed to perfect the cure I'm working on. I can tell this is getting worse as it settles in. I'm getting more irritable and violent, and your little whiny ass isn't helping."

"Then let me go back!" Morty protested, finally pulling his hand out of Rick's grasp and stopping on the sidewalk in front of Rick's house. "Get your Morty back. Give me back to my Rick. You can do what you have to do and-"

Rick's hand shot out before he could think better of it, slapping Morty across the face and grabbing his arm before he could fall back. He yanked the boy roughly forward and dragged him into the house, ignoring his feeble struggles to escape. "Shut up and cooperate. I'm not saying it again." He threatened.

Morty finally seemed to hear him, and appeared to take him seriously. That was good for the boy's sake, because Rick was very close to a full fit of rage. As much as he held back, he couldn't do it all the time, and this kid was trying what tiny bit of patience he possessed. He really didn't want to hurt the boy, but the rage inside him needed an outlet, and the more Morty bitched and whined, the better a target he began to look.

"I need some blood from you," Rick told him as soon as Morty was behaving, standing still and silent near the door.

"W-why?" Morty frowned, taking a small step backward as he stared up at Rick with huge, fearful eyes.

"You're the only human I know of who isn't infected with this toxin. It stands to reason a cure might be able to be fashioned from your blood. I had one that seemed to almost work once... That might be the ingredient I need to finally get it right." Rick explained.

"But-" Morty stared.

Rick felt a familiar growl in the back of his throat. Why was this little fucker so argumentative? Rick reached out and grabbed his wrist again, dragging him toward the basement stairs. He kept his other Morty down here sometimes when he got tired of him or wanted to protect either himself or Morty from each other.

Down in the basement, Rick had a chain tethered securely to the ground. The loose end had an ankle-shackle. It would keep Morty from running and would also keep him out of Rick's way until the man needed him for whatever reason. It was likely the best solution for both of them, considering Rick would have to keep an eye on him otherwise, and that was annoying, and being annoying set Rick off. The best way to keep himself from hurting this kid was to remove the temptation.

Morty's eyes widened and he began fighting back as soon as he saw the chain. "Rick! Please! Don't lock me up! I'll stay... I won't run off. I promise!" He begged as he struggled in Rick's grip. "Let go of me! I won't run! Don't lock me down here, Rick! Don't!"

Rick held him tight, easily dragging him down the stairs and toward the chain. He locked the shackle around Morty's ankle and fished a syringe out of his lab coat.

Rick frowned when Morty backed himself up against the wall, staring silently and fearfully at the syringe. "Grandpa, please don't... I want to go home..." Tears began flowing down the kid's cheeks again.

Maybe Morty thought he was going to gain sympathy by acting like this and it would melt Rick's frozen heart. That was not the case. It did make Rick feel bad for the kid... but feeling bad made Rick angry. It was not going to work in Morty's favor. He was making things worse.

"Morty, stop it." Rick growled. "I just told you this shit makes me mad... I try to control it, but it's getting harder and harder. I don't want to fucking hurt you..."

Morty choked out shaking sobs and looked down at the ground.

"Give me your arm and hold still." Rick instructed, in-taking a slow, measured breath, silently begging himself to remain calm while Morty was testing every tiny shred of patience he possessed.

Morty finally held his arm out, but remained with his back pressed to the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut as tears continued flowing down his cheeks.

Rick stepped forward, fishing a rubber tourniquet out of his lab coat and unfortunately allowing himself too long to think before reaching his test subject. It was making him angry that Morty was making this so difficult. Sure, he was complying now, but why did he have to do so so reluctantly? Why did he have to cry and tremble over something as harmless as giving a vial of blood?

"Open your fucking eyes, Morty. Stop crying and come here." He ordered as he stopped in the center of the room rather than making his way over to the kid. He shouldn't have to chase the kid around the room to take blood. Morty needed to come to him.

Morty opened his eyes and swallowed nervously as he stared toward Rick. He took a cautious step forward, but was trembling still, and tears still flowed silently down his face. "A-are my parents and Summer dead in this dimension?" Morty asked out of nowhere.

Rick felt the muscles in his face twitch. He felt his breaths increasing and his hands pulling into fists. Why couldn't this dumb little kid just shut up?

"I know they are... I can tell... They aren't here. No one is... D-did you kill them?" Morty spoke in a shaking voice.

Rick let out an audible growl as he lunged toward Morty, punching him harder than he ever had before, right across his temple. Morty let out a small whimper of pain, but didn't have time to fight back or even to flinch. Rick's strike against him had been very hard. The boy's eyes rolled back and he fell down against the cold dirt floor of the basement, leaving Rick standing over him, still breathing hard, angry breaths.

Rick didn't want to talk about the rest of his family - the members who were no longer here. Morty should have known better than to ask, but the poor dumb little fucker didn't seem to understand anything. Clearly, bringing up recently deceased relatives to someone who was basically a rage monster wasn't a great idea. Why would Morty bring that up? What the hell was he thinking? Not much, apparently. The dense, painfully innocent little prick didn't stand a chance in this dimension.

As he stood over the more gentle, more annoying, more frustrating version of his grandson, Rick continued breathing deeply, trying to will himself to stop shaking. A small trickle of blood ran down Morty's forehead and dripped lazily onto the dirt floor. He had blood on his nose and lips from earlier too - from whatever fight he'd gotten into with Rick's real grandson.

The longer Rick stared down at him, the worse he felt. He didn't want to hurt this kid. He never wanted to cause his grandson this degree of pain. Never. Not any version of the kid. He felt like a monster for doing this - for getting frustrated with this tiny, innocent little kid and hitting him so hard. Rick's hands were clenched into fists again and his breaths were becoming more rapid. Morty wasn't even doing anything now. He was just lying there, unconscious, hurt and scared, but silent and still - not saying or doing anything that could annoy his grandfather, but annoying him anyway, just by existing and looking vulnerable.

Rick was so pissed that his life had devolved into this - a life where the person he cared about most angered him so much that he couldn't help but to hurt the poor kid. A life where the kid lying in the dirt after being knocked unconscious made Rick feel even more angry, and thus even more likely to hurt him again. He couldn't control himself, and it pissed him off so much.

This was a vicious, never-ending cycle.

Getting this angry made him so frustrated, which made him even more angry... and it was getting stronger and stronger every day. If he didn't figure out this cure soon, he feared there might be no going back. He supposed it wouldn't be long now before he was so angry he wouldn't even want to work on it. Anger and intelligence didn't mix well. Not this kind of anger. Not this blind-rage, violent anger which he could barely control. Intelligent people thought before they acted. Feeling this pissed off and feeling the uncontrollable urge to hurt people made him feel like something in his brain was failing - he couldn't control himself. His logic was losing to feral, angry, violent outbursts. Each aspect of this increased its potency even more. He was angry that he was angry. This was going to get a whole lot worse before it ever got better.

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	5. Chapter 5

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Chapter 5 Characters:

POV: Rick C-137

Other: Angry Morty

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Chapter 5

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Blinking his eyes open, Rick stared up at the ceiling. He seemed to be in the garage, as usual. He must have passed out on the floor out here after coming from from his latest adventure.

He frowned. What was his latest adventure? How did that go? He couldn't really remember. Still lying on the ground and staring up at the garage ceiling, Rick thought back. He'd gone to a dimension filled with actual magic. He was trying to make a deal with a wizard - he was going to trade a cheap version of one of his less-impressive inventions for a magic duplicator machine - which would have been amazing for his work - to duplicate various resources, potentially infinitely.

In the magic dimension, however, Rick had to enter a rather dangerous area and meet the guy he was trading with at a magic bar. He didn't think it was safe for Morty, so he'd left the kid at a Morty-Storage facility.

But then what had happened? Had he gotten what he came for? He couldn't remember much of anything after walking into that bar. He hoped he remembered to get Morty back before leaving. He sort of almost felt like he had a memory of re-claiming the kid, but wasn't quite sure.

Groaning, Rick dragged himself up off the garage floor. That magic bar's alcohol must have been some pretty powerful shit... He paced across the garage, looking around to see if he'd been successful bargaining with the wizard. He didn't see a magic duplicator machine anywhere.

"Fuck." Rick muttered to himself. What a waste of his fucking time. He supposed it wasn't too crazy to assume the magicians might have had some way to read his mind or to tell that he was kind of planning to screw them over. It wasn't a fair trade and Rick knew it.

He made his way toward the bathroom next, as he really had to pee. After that was taken care of, Rick looked at himself in the mirror. "God damn..." he muttered to himself as he raised his fingertips up to his cheek. He had a bruise forming below his eye. That certainly didn't look like the work of the wizards. They fought with magic - not their fists.

As he blinked, staring at the bruise in the mirror, Rick almost felt like he remembered something... He remembered Morty being angry with him for some reason. Was that before or after he left him at the Morty-storage facility? Morty was yelling, kicking, hitting... Right? Did Morty actually punch Rick across the face? That didn't seem right. Maybe that was all a dream... But he did have a bruise right there... That was consistent with Morty punching him. Why the hell would Morty have done that though?

Rick frowned and paced back down the hall. He made his way into the living room and threw himself down onto the couch. At least Beth, Jerry, and Summer were away for the weekend, looking at college campuses in the area or something, so he wouldn't have to deal with their whiny, needy bullshit. With any luck, he indeed left Morty at the Morty-storage facility and wouldn't have to deal with him either. He could just sit around and watch television all weekend.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, however, it was dashed, when he heard light footfalls coming down the hall. Rick exhaled tiredly and shrunk down further into the couch. He hoped Morty would do his own thing and wouldn't bother him right now. The last thing he needed was to have to listen to Morty bitch and complain about being left in the storage facility - Morty had seemed disappointed when Rick told him he'd be staying there for a few hours - but it beat the alternative. Morty could have easily gotten lost if Rick had taken him to the bar - almost certainly would have considering how shitfaced Rick had inexplicably become. It was a miracle Rick had even remembered to reclaim him at all.

"Rick?" Morty asked as he walked with much more measured steps than usual. He sounded a little different too. His voice was low and quiet, almost a whisper. Maybe he was coming down with something.

"What?" Rick grumbled, but kept his eyes on the television.

"Where's Mom?" Morty's voice sounded so fucking serious, maybe even angry.

Rick scoffed. "Touring college campuses with Summer and your dumbass dad. Remember? Like it'll do any good. Do they seriously think that kid's getting into fucking college?"

There came no further reply from the kid. His footfalls continued through the house and up to his bedroom. Rick frowned. He wondered if Morty was up to something. As much as Rick enjoyed not being bothered for once, Morty's uncharacteristic lack of whining was almost unsettling. Rick wondered if the kid had accidentally fucked something up and was trying to keep it hidden.

Rick looked up at the ceiling as he heard Morty's footsteps make their way across the floor upstairs and into his room. His bedroom door closed and there was silence for a few moments before a loud, startling crashing sound.

"God damn it..." Rick grumbled as he stood from his spot on the couch. He hoped this wasn't some kind of puberty thing, where Morty was gonna end up being an emotional fucking wreck like Summer was half the time.

Rick made his way up the stairs, not even bothering to quicken his pace as he continued to hear the sounds of things in Morty's room being thrown against his walls. He was lucky he'd chosen to do this while his parents weren't home. There's no way they'd have been as patient about this as Rick was.

"Why you throwing a fit in here, Morty?" Rick wondered as he swung the door open.

As soon as he opened the door, he flinched as a lamp crashed against the door frame, narrowly missing hitting him right in the face.

"Morty, you little prick!" Rick growled as he rushed into the room. He put up with a lot of annoying shit from this kid, but being hit in the face with a lamp was not something he was going to allow. He ran toward the kid, ready to grab his arms and force him to hold still so that Rick could talk to him. Unfortunately, Morty seemed ready for this. He dodged out of the way, but didn't seem content to get away and stay away. Instead, he stared intently into Rick's eyes, let out a small growl, and lunged toward him, punching the old man in the ribs just once before Rick managed to grab his wrists and wrestle him to the ground.

Rick was beyond pissed now. Morty knew better than to physically attack him - especially when nothing crazy was even going on. It wasn't like they were arguing, or in any sort of intense situation. This didn't even seem to be a response to anything.

Rick slammed Morty's arms against the ground and held him there while the boy thrashed around underneath him. Morty kicked and squirmed and even let out a shrill, awful scream. He kind of reminded Rick of a wild animal, and angry, scared, violent wild animal. He didn't even seem like himself.

Holding him down tighter and trapping the boy's legs with his own, Rick frowned and stared down at his grandson. He looked half-starved... his hair was too long... He was covered in scrapes and bruises. This wasn't his Morty.

"Son of a bitch..." Rick exhaled. "I got the wrong Morty... Why did you let me do that? Didn't you see how shitfaced I was?"

Morty breathed in and out frantic, quick breaths and made another low, growling sound in the back of his throat.

"Well... I guess I gotta go trade you fucking back. Having a normal Morty is enough of a fucking hassle. I have no obligation to deal with this." Rick explained to the kid. "Whatever nightmare you come from... sorry, but you're going back."

"I am the nightmare, you piece of fucking garbage." Morty's spoke in a low hiss.

Rick couldn't help but to let out a small laugh. It was strange to see a Morty who was so hostile and angry. His own Morty kind of had his moments when he was stretched to his limits, but this little guy seemed completely fucking unhinged for no reason.

With a sigh, Rick felt his shoulders slump, but kept his tight hold on the boy. "Okay... I'll bite. What the hell's your deal?"

Morty gave both of his arms a hard tug, but Rick held him tight. "Get the fuck off of me, and I'll tell you."

Rick laughed, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head. "That'd be a no."

Morty let out another low growl and began fighting back again with a renewed intensity. He was actually pretty strong considering his size. A lot stronger than Rick's Morty was. Still not strong enough though. Rick held him down securely, waiting for him to calm down - hoping he had the ability to calm down. Rick wasn't so sure at this point.

"You've gotta fucking let go of me!" Morty screamed, sounding particularly frantic. "Get off of me! Get the fuck off of me!"

"Obviously I'm not going to do that, kid." Rick raised an eyebrow. "Tell me your story. Why're you a little monster asshole. Why'd you let me take you home instead of my actual Morty. What's your fucking problem. Why are you up here breaking shit for no reason?"

Morty breathed in and out, slowly but surely seeming to calm down just enough to finally talk, though his voice shook and he seemed seconds away from snapping again. "My world's in an apocalypse. A chemical released into the air during a large war has fucked everyone up. We're all angry and violent all the time. We can't help it... GET OFF OF ME, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Morty screamed and thrashed uselessly under Rick's firm grip.

Rick nodded as he put a bit of extra effort into holding the kid down. This version of Morty was surprisingly strong considering how thin and malnourished he appeared. "When was this chemical released? How long have you been like this?" Rick wondered.

Morty gritted his teeth and yanked at his arms.

"Come on. Just tell me. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner I'll have you back with your Rick. You can scream and break things together to your dumb little heart's content."

"A year and a half ago... You don't seem to realize how violent we get, you stupid cocksucker. The rest of our family is dead in my dimension... and not by accident. The whole world is like this. Rick speculates maybe just our country, but I think it's everywhere. It was in the air. No one from any other country's come to help us, so it must be everywhere in the world." Morty speculated.

"No offense, Morty," Rick started, "but I think you're wrong. Chemical warfare doesn't spread that far, or else no one would do it in the first place. The rest of the world is just ignoring your country like your country ignored it."

"Rick's been trying to create a cure. Nothing's worked. That's probably why he's content keeping your Morty for a while - to gather blood samples from a non-infected blood-relative to help him find a cure that'll finally fucking work." Morty explained. "That, and I've been told I'm distracting. He pisses me off so much and I can't help but to fucking smack him. Then he smacks me back and it's a whole ordeal... Escalates to a really violent, damaging level. Can't work on a cure during a near perpetual fist-fight."

"Are you fucking serious?" Rick scoffed. "He's been working on a cure for a fucking year and a half with no success? What a fucking loser!" He couldn't help but to laugh. "I'll make a cure in the next fucking day. God. Other Ricks are so fucking useless... You're gonna have to be my test-subject though. Sorry." Rick shrugged as he dragged Morty up off the floor.

"No!" Morty screamed, finally pulling his slim wrist out of Rick's grip and kicking him rather-hard in the shin.

"Son of a bitch!" Rick growled. He expected Morty to make a run for it, but the kid proved his story true when his blind rage got the better of him. He was clearly too pissed off to retreat. Instead, he kept attacking, even though he was smaller and weaker than his opponent and really had such a slim chance of winning this fight.

As Morty punched at Rick's ribs, Rick grabbed his wrists and dragged him back toward the wall, slamming the boy's back up against it, effectively knocking the air out of the kid's little lungs. Morty coughed and squeezed his eyes shut for half a second before attacking back again, kicking out as hard as he could, hitting Rick's legs again in a way that was honestly pretty painful.

"Stop it, you little prick!" Rick growled, stepping on Morty's feet to hold his legs down and pressing his body against the boy's to hold him against the wall. By this point, he had Morty pinned down so securely he was honestly almost afraid he was going to seriously injure the poor kid. "This is for your own good. I'm smarter than other Ricks. I'll find a cure that works in no time. I just need someone infected to start with, obviously. Sorry, but that's gotta be you."

Morty groaned in frustration as he pulled his arms harshly, trying desperately to dislodge them from Rick's grip.

"Morty, stop." Rick warned. "You're gonna dislocate your fucking arms."

When Morty continued thrashing around and desperately pulling at his arms, Rick began to seriously contemplate knocking the poor little fucker out. As it were, he was going to hurt himself if he was allowed to remain conscious. And if what the kid said was true - that people from his dimension were irrationally pissed off and violent all the time, Morty might not possess the self-control needed to stop fighting back.

Rick decided to give him one last warning, just in case. "You're going to hurt yourself, Morty. You have to calm down. Stop fighting me. I'm not letting you go. You're just gonna pull your arms outta their sockets."

"No!" Morty growled and whimpered at the same time as he tugged his arms so hard that Rick was almost certain he was causing himself significant pain. He even saw tears in the boy's eyes. "Let me go!" He cried a shrill, desperate scream.

Rick frowned as he stared down at the boy. His anger was so frantic and desperate. He clearly couldn't control himself. It really would physically be in the boy's best interest if he were just unconscious until this whole nightmare was resolved. Every second he was awake, he was going to spend fighting... Obviously Rick wasn't just going to let the kid hit and kick him... he'd have to hold him down or fight back. Either way, this poor, angry little Morty was going to end up hurt.

So Rick did the only thing he could do, he pushed Morty back against the wall, held him there with an arm stretched across his chest, and reached his free hand into his lab coat. He grabbed a small stunning device, pressed it gently but firmly against Morty's neck, and activated it.

Morty made a strange noise between a scream and a whimper before collapsing onto the floor.

With a stressed, tired exhale, Rick hefted the boy up into his arms and carried him down to the garage. He didn't want to be cruel necessarily (though his definition of that word was fairly lenient compared to most,) but he had to contain this boy somehow. He couldn't allow him the opportunity to lash out in any way or to escape the confines of the house. If he wanted to get his own Morty back, he needed to keep this one in relatively good condition.

Rick laid Morty down on his workbench and then dug around in the back of the garage until he found a table he'd used for human test subjects in the past. It came complete with wrist and ankle restraints, which was just what he needed in this situation.

He set the table up and made his way back over to his work bench. He picked up the violent version of his grandson and placed him carefully on the table, securing his wrists and ankles in place and then staring down at him.

Morty had so many bruises and cuts all over him. The ones on his arms were clearly made by someone else's hands - probably his Rick. It seemed the two spent a lot of time in physical fights with one-another. The boy was too thin. Rick wondered if food was scarce where this Morty came from or if he was just so angry and focused on lashing out that he barely gave a thought to self-preservation. He clearly cared more about fighting Rick than keeping his body unharmed, as a few minutes before the kid had been ready to dislocate his arms if it meant he could strike out at Rick just one more time.

The more Rick looked down at the boy, the more tragic the situation looked to him. This Morty had been living through this nightmare for a year and a half. A year and a half of pure anger and rage that he couldn't escape. A year and a half of his Rick being the same way - most definitely lashing out at him too - hurting him even worse than he was hurting himself. That's all either of them had known for the past eighteen long months.

Rick had several ideas to help this kid for the time being. The first was to find something to just fucking calm him down. At the moment, Rick didn't know much about the chemical that had infected the people of this Morty's dimension, but he did just get a first-hand experience of its effects, and he knew what the perfect drug was to try to counteract that... He just had to hope there were no negative reactions between whatever chemical was possessing Morty and the small dose of heroin he planned to administer.

Once he got the kid calmed down a bit, maybe he could actually talk to him. If he kept him high enough, perhaps he could even let him roam free a bit. Of course, Rick wasn't aiming to create an addict here... That was a very temporary solution to a very long-term problem. He still had to create a cure so that Morty wouldn't have to be high on heroin for the rest of his life.

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	6. Chapter 6

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Chapter 6 Characters:

POV: Morty C-137

Other: Angry-Rick

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Chapter 6

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The first thing Morty felt when he woke up was coldness and confusion. He couldn't quite remember what had happened and didn't understand why he was lying on the dirt floor of a cold, dark basement. It didn't take him long, however, to remember everything, which turned his confusion into dread and fear.

Presently, he was chained up down here and was at the mercy of a Rick who claimed to have an intense anger and desire to be violent toward him. This Rick had proven his tendency for violent outbursts already, and Morty really didn't want to experience any more of it.

Morty frowned and tried to control his breaths, which were somewhat quick at the moment, as he gripped the chain tethering an ankle cuff to his leg. He crawled across the floor, following the chain to a metal piece which secured it to the floor. Although it was fairly dark in the basement, light from the moon outside illuminated it just enough for him to see. The metal piece which the chain was attached to was stuck in the floor, but the floor was dirt... Realistically, Morty could potentially dig it up and escape.

With shaking hands, Morty began digging at the packed down earth around the cold metal post. The Rick of this dimension was too violent. The man claimed to not want to hurt Morty and said he would do his best not to, but his best wasn't very good. He'd hurt Morty a lot already. Staying here with the intensely violent version of his grandfather was not something Morty wanted to do if he could help it. He wasn't sure where he'd go if he succeeded in freeing himself, but he could worry about that later. For now, he just needed to get out of here.

He dug and dug at the hard dirt, ignoring the fact that his fingertips were beginning to hurt. Rick had been so mean... and for no real reason. All Morty had done was try to leave because the man was scaring him... and then all he did was ask about his parents and sister. He didn't deserve this, and it didn't matter to him that there was some stupid chemical making Rick this way. It still wasn't acceptable. Whether Rick's intention was not to hurt him didn't matter. Rick was hurting him. Actions spoke louder than intentions. Morty was sick of it.

Morty gasped and shrunk back when he heard the basement door open. He debated lying down and pretending to still be unconscious, but by the time the thought entered his mind, Rick was already making his way down the stairs.

"If this serum I made works, I won't need to keep you here much longer." Rick spoke as he made his way down the stairs. "It's a barbiturate base and I did a little work comparing your blood to my Morty's to see what's there or not there. Seems the chemical actually altered our DNA, so if I - What are you doing?" Rick's tone soured immediately as he scowled down at the metal post Morty had been trying to unearth and then glared at Morty.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Morty stared back with wide eyes. He opened his mouth to answer, but couldn't find the words.

With a loud exhale, Rick increased his pace down the stairs and crossed the floor toward Morty.

"I'm not doing anything!" Morty insisted in a breathless voice as he crawled backward across the floor and toward the wall. "I'll stop! I'll stay still down here... I won't try to escape; I promise!"

Rick didn't even react to Morty's pleas. He continued coming, scowling with narrowed eyes as he approached.

Morty scrambled to his feet, but didn't really have anywhere he could go. He was cornered, and even if he escaped the corner, he was still chained to the floor. He was quite literally trapped. Even so, he wasn't about to just stand there and let Rick attack him, so when the man got close enough, Morty balled his hand into a fist and punched him, as hard as he could against his ribs. As he hit the man, Morty let out a tiny, terrified shriek.

"You little dipshit..." Rick growled as he reached quickly toward Morty, trying to grab his arms.

"Get away from me!" Morty screamed as he scrambled away as far as his chained up ankle would allow. He balled his hands into fists again, ready to hit the overly-angry version of his grandfather as many times as he needed to avoid being seriously hurt or killed by the man.

Rick was quick, and very strong as he reached out and snatched Morty's wrists in his hands. He pushed the boy backward until his back hit the wall and pinned him there securely, squeezing his hands so hard Morty was sure his arms would be covered by deep, painful bruises for weeks after this - assuming he survived that long.

"Rick, please!" Morty begged with a pained wince.

"You're pissing me off, Morty." Rick growled, pulling Morty away from the wall just enough to slam him roughly back against it. "I keep fucking telling you... Being irritating's just gonna make this worse. I can only control this so much..."

"I won't try to escape! Rick, let me go!" Morty pleaded, coughing and squeezing his eyes shut. "I'll try not to be irritating... I- I'm just scared... I was trying to get away because you keep attacking me..." Morty inhaled a shaking breath, trying to keep his tears from falling. Rick's grip was so painful. "Rick, please... You're hurting my arms... Please let me go..."

Rick only squeezed his hands tighter, which caused a pained cry to make its way out of Morty's mouth.

"You're gonna b-break my arms, Rick! Stop!" Morty whimpered, pulling uselessly at his limbs.

Rick stared down at him, breathing in angry, shaking breaths of his own as he continued gripping Morty so tightly the boy legitimately feared his arm bones might be crushed.

Morty could feel Rick's hands shaking as he gripped the boy's wrists. Morty let out a trembling breath, trying and failing to keep his tears from falling. Maybe being silent would do the trick. That was difficult to do when Rick was hurting his arms so much. He couldn't hold back his soft sobs.

"God damn it, Morty!" Rick growled. "You've got to stop pissing me off! When you whine and cry like this, it makes me angry... I can't fucking hold back... I'm trying so damn hard..." He shook Morty as he spoke. "You know if I were anyone else, I'd have killed you by now, right? Do you know that?"

With a whimper, Morty squeezed his eyes shut. Fighting back didn't work, staying silent didn't work. Morty honestly did not know how to make this stop. "I don't know what to do! I don't know what you want me to do!" He gasped as he tried with futility to free his arms from the old man's harsh, bruising grip. "Just tell me what you want, Rick!"

"I just want you to fucking hold still. Just stay down here. Don't try to escape. Sit down on the fucking ground and stay still." Rick told him. The man's voice dripped with annoyance. He let go of Morty only long enough to shove him overly roughly toward the ground.

Morty landed with a pained groan. Even though his breaths were quick and frightened, and his chest felt cold and tight, he went against his natural instincts and did not try to stand up or crawl away. Instead, he stayed where he landed and waited, hoping Rick's anger would subside. It seemed fighting back or even crying made the man even angrier. Morty just had to stay quiet and still until Rick left him again.

Rick's breathing was loud enough that Morty could hear it over his own. The man was clearly pissed, as it seemed he always was. He wasn't hitting or kicking Morty though. He was just standing over him. Perhaps he was controlling his emotions better now. Maybe the painful part of this was over - for the time-being at least.

Morty swallowed and glanced toward Rick as the man exhaled loudly and sunk down to the floor, sitting only a few feet away from where Morty had fallen.

"This shit was funny at first." Rick said out of nowhere.

Frowning, Morty stared silently toward the man. Rick still seemed upset. Morty didn't want to anger him further, so he remained still, lying on his stomach with his arms pulled close to his chest. He was still cold, and wanted to sit up and wrap his arms around himself, but was scared to move.

"The chemical worked faster on some people and slower on others. The news for a couple weeks after this started was fuckin' hilarious. Motherfuckin' Senators beating each other to death. Fuckin' fist fights between teachers and shit. Fast-food workers like jumping out drive through windows beating the shit out of dipshit customers. Even news anchors started lashing out and getting into physical fights with each other on the air. It was funny." Rick explained.

Morty chose to simply listen. While he had questions and comments, he appreciated the fact that Rick wasn't hurting him anymore, and didn't want to lose that privilege by talking and possibly pissing the man off.

"But then it got closer to home and it wasn't funny anymore." Rick frowned. Something in his eyes looked dark, haunted, deeply upset.

"Y-you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Morty reminded him, remembering what happened the last time he had brought up family to the man.

"I fucking know that, Morty." Rick grumbled. "And I'm not going to. Not the details. Long story short, this fucking nonsense cost me most of my family. I should have fixed it sooner - before I got too distracted by being pissed off to fucking even focus on science anymore. I should have fixed it back when it was still funny. I should have known it was gonna fuck my life too. Why was I so god damn dumb?"

"Y-you're not... Rick... You're not dumb, and y-you know that... so..." Morty stuttered. "Y-you know... You shouldn't say that. It-it's not your fault."

"Damn it, Morty... I never wanted shit to be like this. I didn't want to be abusive to my Morty or any other Morty. Not like this. I used to do some pretty questionable things - I'm sure your Rick does too, but I'd have never just fucking punched you, locked you up... I almost strangled my Morty one day. I don't like that I'm like this. I don't like hurting you and threatening you like this. I'm not this abusive fucking rage monster. This isn't me. This isn't on purpose..."

Morty felt himself shaking as he stared at Rick, noticing the man's hands clenching into fists again. The boy frowned and held his breath as he fought the urge to curl into a defensive ball. Rick was pretty strong, and Morty could tell he was getting upset again, which meant he could lash out at any moment.

"I don't like this any fuckin' more than you do." Rick growled. Morty noticed he looked almost like he might be shaking too - only his shaking would have been attributed to anger rather than cold or fear like Morty's.

"I-I can help you however you need me to... I'll do whatever you want... Or I'll just stay out of the way." Morty offered. He felt and sounded out of breath. "Whatever you want - just say the word. Tell me what I need to do and I'll do it..."

Rick exhaled and closed his eyes for a long few seconds, and finally unclenched his fists. He opened his eyes again and stared down at Morty. "Just stay down here. Don't try to escape. Remember that guy you ran into out there? Pretty much everyone left is like that. At least I'm gonna make an effort not to kill your or break every bone in your body. Nobody else out there's gonna even try to go easy on you."

"Okay." Morty breathed out nervously.

Rick stood up and took a few steps away. He shrugged out of his lab coat and threw it toward the boy, seeming to try extra hard to keep his distance from Morty.

Swallowing, Morty stared with confusion down at the coat. "Wh-"

"So you won't be cold, dumbfuck." Rick scowled.

"Oh..." Morty felt himself shaking still, but wasn't sure if it was from being cold or being terrified. "Th-thank you..." He added with a nervous smile.

Rick grumbled under his breath and rolled his eyes. "If my rats survive the night, we can trade you out for my Morty and you'll be done with this fuckin' nightmare. We'll all be done with it." He added as he turned toward the stairs and made his way up to the ground floor, leaving Morty alone in the cold, dark basement once again.

Morty nodded slightly as he wrapped Rick's coat around his shoulders and squeezed himself as far as he could into the room's corner. He certainly hoped Rick's cure would work, because he was very ready to get out of here.

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	7. Chapter 7

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Chapter 7 Characters:

POV: Angry-Morty

Other: Rick C-137

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Chapter 7

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"Morty." a gentle voice that sounded like it was trying too hard to sound calm and friendly spoke from somewhere nearby. "Morty? You awake, buddy?"

Morty groaned and allowed his head to loll to the side as he swallowed and tried to pry his heavy eyelids open. He felt disoriented and confused, but somehow more calm than he'd felt in months. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't seem to find any words.

"You doin' okay? You awake, Morty?" The voice continued. It sounded familiar... It was Morty's grandfather's voice, but the man sounded like he was in a better mood than usual.

"Wh-" Morty started, breathing in a slow breath. "Where-" He wasn't sure what he was trying to ask. Morty blinked his eyes slowly open and closed and tried to sit up only to find that his wrists and ankles were locked down in leather cuffs. Morty felt tears in his eyes as he tugged at the restraints. "Rick?" He squeaked.

"You're okay." Rick's hand was on his shoulder and then on his chin as he looked into the boy's eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"D-did you cure me?" Morty wondered.

Rick shook his head. "Not yet. I'm working on it. For now, I just gave you something temporary to calm you down. Do you feel calm? You're not angry, irritated, freaked the fuck out, or otherwise pissed beyond reason, are you? I can't have you being violent."

Morty closed his eyes again. "I don't know..." He felt his words slurring together. He was confused. He hadn't felt this calm in so long... The absence of the rage that had been boiling inside him for a year and a half was strange. He wasn't sure how to handle it.

"Well... I'm gonna leave you on the table for a little bit until I'm sure, okay?" Rick explained.

Morty whimpered and shrunk down against the table. He didn't like this. He remembered in his foggy, confused mind what had happened prior to this... He wasn't even with his own Rick... Not that he wanted to be while also strapped down and at the violent man's complete mercy... but he didn't know this guy. He had no reason to believe this Rick wouldn't hurt him.

This version of his grandpa seemed to have read his fears just by looking at him. "You'll be alright, Morty. Don't be scared. I'm working on a cure. I've just tested it on pigeons, and they're still alive... so we'll give it a while and see if they survive - then we can try it on you. Beyond that, I'm not gonna do anything cruel. You're locked down for your own safety. And mine, kinda..." He added with a laugh.

Morty frowned. That didn't make sense. He certainly didn't feel safe. "You're lying." He spoke in slow, breathless words. "Let me up... Please..."

Rick shook his head. "You almost dislocated your arms trying to attack me earlier. You probably couldn't even feel it thanks to whatever rage you were in, but you were hurting yourself. I'll let you up when I'm sure you can stay calm. Until then, just hang tight."

Closing his eyes, Morty tried not to tremble. Sometimes his own Rick would lock him up 'for his own safety,' and then when Rick got pissed off and attacked him, he couldn't fight back. This Rick seemed to not be under the same violent spell as what plagued everyone in Morty's dimension, but what if he was? Maybe it just wasn't as bad here... Or what if this Rick was just a bad person? Some Ricks were cruel just because they wanted to be and not because of any toxin. Morty didn't know this guy.

"Come on... You're supposed to feel calm. I just gave you hard drugs - the good stuff. Chill out." Rick shoved his shoulder playfully.

Morty winced and flinched back, pulling his hands into fists as a reflex. He felt his breaths increase, even though he already realized by now that Rick wasn't attacking him. Unfortunately, being forced to feel calm after such a long time feeling blind rage didn't make him feel so calm after all. He felt extremely anxious, in a different way than normal, and was honestly pretty frightened.

Rick drew his hand back and frowned.

Shaking his head, Morty sniffed back his tears. "Can't I just go back? I'll just go back with my own Rick... I- I'll be fine... I just don't want to be locked up. Rick, please..." He tugged weakly at his bound arms and exhaled a shaking breath.

"You don't have to be scared, Morty." Rick repeated with a furrowed brow. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"A-are you sure?" Morty pouted. "I was really mean before. I broke a lot of things in your Morty's room and I tried to attack you... I was so mad."

"That's not your fault." Rick noted while shaking his head. "I'm not mad. I don't know if I can trust you to be untied just yet. Just be patient. I promise I won't do anything bad."

Morty swallowed and stared up at the ceiling. He had no choice but to comply.

"How about you tell me more details about whatever this chemical infection stuff is?" Rick suggested. "I couldn't get that clear of an answer out of you before... You're kinda high now, so maybe I won't get a good answer now either, but at least you're not trying to rip your own arms off."

Morty shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it. Now that he wasn't feeling that intense rage that he'd felt for all those months prior, he felt nothing but shame about it. He did wonder how it was that he felt so much calmer than before. Before the chemical toxin, Morty wouldn't have described this feeling as calm. He currently felt anxious and scared, but compared to the intense anger and frustration he was used to, this was pretty blissful... with the exception of the strong sense of fear, guilt, and shame, of course.

"Or not..." Rick shrugged, pulling a chair up beside Morty and sitting down.

Morty continued looking up at the garage ceiling. Now that he was more calm, he wasn't sure he wanted to be cured. This felt bad in an entirely different way. The constant anger was exhausting and irritating, but being more coherent was entirely excruciating as well. He could focus more on details he didn't want to focus on, but couldn't shake out of his thoughts. Most of his family in his own dimension was gone... and their deaths were no accident. Morty wasn't going to ever be able to feel as content as he had before the chemical was released. How could he? Beth, Jerry, and Summer weren't coming back. They were gone for good.

"What's goin' on, Morty? What's on your mind?" Rick wondered with a concerned frown. "You still feeling calm? You're not gonna freak out, are you?"

Morty shook his head and swallowed. He wondered if talking about this could be therapeutic... but then, he was talking to Rick. It might very well do much more harm than good to try to discuss anything important with the man.

"You're crying, Morty." Rick noted.

"I am?" Morty instinctively tried to raise his hand to his cheek, but couldn't. As soon as he remembered he was tied down, more tears sprung to his eyes.

"Aww... come on, Morty... Don't cry..." Rick sounded uncomfortable. "You're gonna be fine. I'm gonna figure this out. I promise."

"What if I don't want you to?" Morty sniffed. How could he live with himself after everything that had happened?

"Why not?" Rick frowned. "Being that pissed off all the time can't feel good."

"This doesn't either." Morty whispered.

"Well... that's because you're high on heroin. You won't feel so fucked up once you're cured. You'll be calm, but you won't have to be high as fuck at the same time." He chuckled.

Morty shook his head. "That's not why... Rick, I feel so guilty. I can't take back the things I did. The world can't go back to normal. So many people are gone. People who mattered..."

"Shit happens, Morty. You'll move on. It's what people do." Rick explained.

"I can't move on. I'm responsible for some of it, Rick..." Morty started, feeling his voice shaking. "Our whole family was there at first. Me, you, Mom, Dad, and Summer... and we all got infected by the chemical..."

Rick stared silently, allowing Morty to say anything and everything without interruption.

Morty exhaled and went on. He figured he might as well let it out... "Mom was maybe the most violent... I figured you would be - I mean, the you in my dimension... but you aren't. My Rick claims he can control it more because he's smart. Mom was smart too. She didn't control it."

Morty glanced at Rick, who actually looked legitimately uncomfortable with what he was hearing.

"Maybe I shouldn't say any more..." Morty hesitated. Rick was going to hate him for this. Maybe he'd be even mad enough to take back his promise not to hurt Morty. Rick might even kill him for what he'd done. Morty wouldn't be that surprised, and couldn't claim he didn't kind of deserve it. Maybe it wouldn't really even be such a bad thing.

"No... Go on." Rick suggested.

"It's awful, Rick... You're not going to like it..." Morty warned.

Rick forced a small smile. "I don't like anything, Morty... And I've seen some seriously fucked up shit, so I won't judge."

With a calming exhale, Morty continued. "So... Mom didn't really hold back, right from the start after the chemical sort of settled into our town. It didn't take long for her to get really harsh. It was kind of before we knew exactly what was going on. It started slower, with some people having a quicker, stronger reaction to it. Hers came on really strong really fast. Dad was getting on her nerves and she was getting on his... They started fighting - like a really violent, awful fight. I hadn't ever seen them act like that before. Neither had Summer. We were both getting that little twinge of anger and irrational violence in us too by that point, but not like Mom. Summer tried to step in and stop her because she was really beating up Dad. It only made her more angry. I don't think the chemical fully got to me as fast, because I was still content to run and hide at that point... so I did. I came back to Dad and Summer dead... When I ran away and left them there... She killed them."

Rick swallowed. "Buddy, that's not your fault... You know that, right?" He sounded so fucking nervous. Morty had never heard any version of his grandfather sound this concerned. No Rick he'd met had this much care for anything, let alone a Morty that wasn't even his own.

Morty shook his head. "It kind of is... I didn't try to stop her. I just ran... and it made me mad... Very mad. Once I realized what happened, I think it triggered the chemical in me more than before. I was so angry, and unlike Mom, I thought to use a weapon... I stabbed her in the stomach, Rick... over and over again. She fell down, and I kept going. I was so mad. I couldn't think of anything but anger. She was still trying to fight me as I stabbed her, but I had struck first and had the upper hand. Then Rick walked in on that and beat me up. I think he was ready to kill me, but stopped himself at the last second. I felt like I was going to pass out. I was in so much pain, but couldn't even focus on it because I wanted so much to beat the shit out of Rick too. I thought I was gonna die, and I was ready for it... I wanted to die. He was punching and kicking me, and I was so close to passing out... I didn't care. I wanted to be dead... but somehow he stopped himself. He left the house for days. Came back with supplies and never mentioned the fact that I killed Mom. Maybe he even thinks I killed Dad and Summer too... He forgave me, I guess, even with the rage chemical. I mean, he still hurt me plenty of times, but somehow he knows how to hold back sometimes, when it matters. Maybe what he says is true - maybe he's so smart that he can hold back more than anyone else can... I certainly can't. I mean, I feel like I can sometimes, but I killed my own mother, Rick. I didn't realize I was doing it until it was done... It made me even more angry once I calmed down the small bit that was possible... but I was alone by then, so I broke windows, punched walls, took a knife to all the furniture. I was so mad... I just threw their bodies out the back door because I didn't have the patience to bury them."

Morty inhaled a slow, shaking breath and squeezed his eyes shut as he remembered more. "I tried not to look out there... but sometimes I did... Over time, I watched their bodies decay... Rick didn't bury them either. Neither of us covered them up... They're still there. Out back... The grass grew up pretty tall - your Morty probably didn't see them... but they're there."

"God damn..." Rick finally said, then shook his head quickly... "I mean... There was nothing you could do, Morty. It was the chemical. You couldn't control that. You aren't at fault, and the fact that you feel guilt proves that it wasn't you... it was the chemical controlling you. Just like it wasn't Beth who killed Jerry and Summer. It was the chemical. You can't let yourself feel guilty about this."

"How could I not?" Morty felt tears rolling down his cheeks. "I let her kill them, and then I killed her... If I had done something sooner, maybe all three of them would still be alive."

"Or maybe she'd have killed you and then them. Then from there, maybe she'd have killed Rick, or Rick would have killed her. You can't know what could have been." Rick told him, placing a hand gently on Morty's shoulder. "All you can know is that all of this isn't your fault. It's not Beth's fault, or Summer's or your Rick's... or even fucking Jerry's. It's a chemical that shouldn't have been there, controlling you and them. I'm going to try to fix it - get you and your Rick back to normal. I can't resurrect the dead. I won't travel through time. It's too risky... But I can help the two of you. You can even jump dimensions - start over somewhere new. Forget about the past, or just move on from it at least."

Morty exhaled and closed his eyes. He felt so tired, like he'd been running at full-speed for the past months and had just now finally slowed down for a moment. He was used to everything being so fast-paced and frantic... This was unsettling.

"Okay?" Rick was still talking. "Okay, Morty? You could go to a new dimension - get a new family just the same as the old one. That's what my Morty and I did. There's not much difference from one Beth to the next, one Summer to the next... I mean, besides the crazy versions like yours, but that wasn't something natural. Just go to a dimension where they didn't die and you'll be practically forgetting they were ever gone."

Swallowing, Morty shook his head, but kept his eyes closed. This Rick didn't understand. He couldn't just replace his family. He killed his mother after allowing her to kill his father and sister. How could he forget that? Finding a new version of them wasn't going to erase the memory and knowledge of what had happened.

"You awake?" Rick asked. "You're not answering me..."

Morty breathed in and out, but kept his eyes closed. He wasn't sure if he should just pretend to be asleep. Rick was kind of irritating him. He felt a twinge of anger bubbling inside of him, and a bit of an urge to grab Rick by the throat and strangle him... but he was also able to not act on it, something that wasn't really possible these past months.

"Well... I don't know, kid. You gotta move on. Shit happens. That's life. The sooner you get used to it the better," Rick told him. Morty could hear a shrug in his voice.

"How can live with myself?" Morty whispered, but kept his eyes closed. "I can't forget, Rick."

Rick was silent for a moment. "You're really fucking damaged, kid... but so many of us are. I think you're assuming you can't live if you've got a deep pain inside you that won't go away. You think you can't live like that, but that's simply not true. You haven't felt any of this until right now. All that rage kept you from registering everything. This is fresh, but it won't always be. You'll be okay."

Morty shook his head. "I don't know..."

"Well, I do." Rick told him. "Life is like eighty percent regret, guilt and anger. You either deal with it or kill yourself. That's how it is for everyone."

With a nod, Morty remained silent. Rick was right. He could live with this, or he could die. He wasn't sure which alternative made the most sense for him. While thinking about no longer existing made him feel almost relieved, it also scared him. He didn't want to live knowing what had happened and what he had done... but he didn't want to necessarily be dead either.

Rick exhaled a long sigh after a too-long silence between them. "If my test-pigeons survive through the night, I'll take you back to your dimension tomorrow. We can give the cure to you and your Rick, see what happens... get my Morty back... I can even help you guys find a new dimension. I'm feeling generous."

With his eyes still closed, Morty exhaled and tried to relax. He honestly wasn't sure if he could live like this. He'd spent so much time lost in a mind full of blind rage... He'd been in physical pain from fighting and being attacked on a daily basis for the past months of his life, but he'd barely had time to even register it. The physical pain was nothing compared to this. Coming back to reality, even while high on heroin, was the most painful moment of his life...

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	8. Chapter 8

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Chapter 8 Characters:

POV: Rick C-137

Other, in order of appearance: Angry Morty, Morty C-137, Angry-Rick

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Chapter 8

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As he sat in a chair next to the table he'd strapped Morty down on, Rick stared down at the kid, who appeared to have finally managed to fall into a peaceful sleep. Even so, Rick doubted Morty's mind was as content as his slumber made him appear.

Something about a Morty being consumed with passionate rage for a year and a half followed by a heavy, ironically sobering dose of heroin made the kid into an emotional fucking wreck. Rick couldn't help but to feel bad for the poor little guy. Morty clearly took his own past actions very seriously, even when it was a war-chemical which made him do the things he did. Any rational person could see that there was nothing Morty could have done in that situation to make things end better... but Mortys were rarely rational. They were fueled by emotion, which unfortunately meant that they were all going to take things very personally and feel great guilt and shame over things better forgotten.

Rick watched the boy's chest slowly rise and fall as he breathed in and out even, steady breaths. He looked so terribly abused, but Rick knew the other version of himself from this Morty's dimension was infected by the same chemical this poor little version of Morty was suffering from. The boy's Rick didn't want to be abusive. Just like Morty here, the man couldn't help it. It sounded like Rick might actually have a better handle on this than anyone though, which wasn't surprising. Ricks always were smarter than everyone else. It didn't surprise him at all to learn that Rick might be the only person in that dimension capable of controlling his rage.

And lucky for Morty, the man had obviously held back. If Beth could kill her own daughter and husband, Rick could have certainly killed Morty. He obviously made certain that he didn't. Rick wondered just how difficult that was for him... It was clearly difficult for Morty to hold back his aggression, but Mortys were always weak - even if that meant they couldn't help but to be needlessly aggressive and violent while a stronger person held their anger in.

Rick stood up and checked Morty's vitals. His heartbeat was somewhat slow, but he was doing fine. His breathing was okay, he didn't seem distressed... Rick wondered if the other Rick had ever thought to use heroin to hold this off for a while. It would have been stupid not to. Obviously someone consumed by aggression would reasonably try a calming drug to counteract it. Why wouldn't they? It had been a year and a half though. Maybe Rick had tried heroin but had decided against it when he feared irreversible addiction would set in - not that it would really be so bad considering the world they lived in...

Rick made his way over to the bird cage in the corner of the room and checked on his pigeons. Rick had concocted a potential cure out of a vial of his Morty's blood (he always had extra in storage, just in case...) And so far, the pigeons were fine. That meant the serum likely wouldn't be lethal to humans. Rick had also checked his cure against a sample of this Morty's blood - and by looking at it under a microscope, he could see that it was able to disband certain proteins that had wound into the boy's DNA - ones which seemed to have caused the aggression and irritability. If his calculations were correct, this would solve everything.

Now he just needed to make his way to the other dimension and see if the other Rick wanted to give this cure a shot. He also kind of wanted to gloat that he'd created a workable cure in a day when this other Rick hadn't been able to in a full eighteen months.

Rick carefully unstrapped Morty's wrists and ankles and shook the boy's shoulder. "Morty." He spoke in a low voice. "I'm gonna take you back. We're gonna see if this cure I made works."

Morty blinked tiredly.

"Can you get up?" Rick frowned. He hoped he hadn't given the kid too much heroin... He just really didn't want Morty freaking out.

"Yeah." Morty spoke in a slow, tired murmur. He pulled himself up on the table and slid down so that his feet were on the floor. "What if it doesn't work?" He asked in a slurring voice.

Rick frowned. "We'll try something else. I'm devoted to this now. We're gonna fix it. I don't fail, Morty. I said I'd figure out a cure, so I will."

Morty let out a small, weak laugh, but didn't argue. He didn't seem to believe Rick's words.

Shaking his head, Rick input the coordinates into his portal gun and opened a portal leading to this Morty's world. He stepped through it and was followed by the boy, who seemed to practically hide behind him. Seeing what he was walking into, Rick could see why. This world looked awful. Everything was dark and broken. The house he found himself in was cold and looked like it had been hit by a rather significant earthquake.

"Rick!" Rick called out, waiting for the other man to show himself. Rick ignored the fact that Morty was gripping his sleeve now as he hid behind him. "This is your house, right?" Rick frowned, glancing back toward Morty. "Where is he?"

Morty shrugged. "Maybe he went looking for more ingredients for the cure he's making."

"Rick!" A weak and somewhat frightened sounding voice called from somewhere down below. It sounded like Morty. "Rick, help me!"

Rick frowned and turned toward the violent version of his grandson. "Is that Morty? My Morty? Where's the lower level of this shithole?" He demanded.

"O-over there-" Morty gestured toward a hallway. Rick ran off toward the sound of his own Morty's voice before the other boy could continue explaining.

"Morty!" Rick couldn't keep his voice entirely calm as he ran down the hall and toward a door. He opened it and took the stairs down into a cold, damp basement.

"Rick!" Morty gasped, but took a step back as though frightened of the man. "Is it you? I mean... is it my Rick? C-137? Is it you?"

"Yeah," Rick breathed, staring down at his grandson with a frown. Morty's ankle was restrained by a heavy chain that was connected to a secure metal bolt in the middle of the dirt floor. The boy was covered in bruises and had dried, crusty blood under his nose and on his forehead. He looked absolutely terrible, but for some reason had one of Rick's white lab coats wrapped around his shoulders. Whatever the other Rick had done, however harsh and violent he'd been, he must have had a bit of care left in his heart... Clearly not much though.

"It-it's really you?" Morty asked again, seeming entirely suspicious. He looked like he wanted to flee, but couldn't even make the effort thanks to the chain securing him to the floor. "Y-you're not infected by the chemical? You won't do anything bad? Y-you won't hurt me?"

Rick frowned. Seeing his Morty so hurt and frightened made him want to kill the person responsible, but he knew the Rick and Morty of this dimension were only like this because of events beyond their control. He was trying to cure them of it - not execute them. He had to forgive this other Rick if he wanted to succeed in helping the man and his Morty. That didn't mean he shouldn't make sure his own Morty was okay first.

"Morty... what did he do...?" Rick asked and glanced over his shoulder at the other Morty who loomed nervously in the doorway up on the main floor of the house. "I thought you said he could control his anger!" Rick growled. If he knew Morty was going to get seriously hurt here, he wouldn't have left him here so long.

"I did... I mean, he does... Better than I do... but not completely. I-is he okay? Is your Morty alright?" The other Morty sounded so nervous. His voice shook as though he was on the verge of tears.

Rick shook his head. Now he had two injured, distressed Mortys to deal with.

"Come here." Rick ordered as he closed in on his own Morty. "What did he do to you? Do you have broken bones? Anything serious?"

Morty swallowed and stared up with wide, frightened eyes. He was shaking slightly, almost as though unsure if he could trust any Rick at this point.

Rick grabbed the chain in his hand and fished around in his lab coat for his version of a swiss army knife. Morty was lucky Rick had a solution for pretty much everything, or he would have died countless times by now. Rick took his knife out and selected the lock-pick, fiddling around with the lock around Morty's ankle until it popped open.

Morty seemed to shrink down slightly as he looked up at Rick. "A-are you taking me home?" He asked. "Because... Well, because Rick's been trying to make a cure using my blood and he said I should stay until he's sure it works in case he needs to try again..."

Rick scowled down at the kid. "Why should you care if his fucking cure works?" He growled. "Look what he's done to you." He added, gesturing at the bruises lining Morty's arms and decorating his face. "Is anything broken?" He asked again.

Morty shook his head. "I don't think so... but Rick, you don't understand... He didn't hurt me on purpose. He can't control it... I-I know I sound crazy, but it's true. There's this, uh... chemical thing that everyone here got infected by. That's why hardly anyone's left. They get really violent and can't help it. Rick..." he added in a small whisper. "I think Mom, Dad, and Summer are dead in this dimension."

"Yeah... I think so too." Rick noted, but didn't elaborate. The other Morty didn't need that reminder. The kid was already damn near suicidal over it. "Anyway, I've made my own cure, much faster, and I'll bet it's much better too."

"Oh yeah?" A voice identical to his own spoke up from the top of the stairs. Rick and Morty both looked up in time to see this dimension's Rick standing in the doorway. "Get out of my way." He added, shoving his Morty rather roughly against the wall.

Rick could see the other Morty's face twitch very slightly. It seemed his calming dose of drugs was wearing off a bit, but fortunately he wasn't quite back to normal and resisted the urge to shove his grandfather back.

"The fuck's wrong with you?" Angry-Rick frowned down at his Morty, who swallowed and shrunk back slightly, but didn't shove the man back. The old man narrowed his eyes and bent down closer to see his grandson's face. "Are you fucking high right now?" He accused.

"I gave him heroin." Rick informed his alternate-self.

"Of course you did." Angry-Rick scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"It calmed him down. Long enough that I could work on making a cure without him pulling his fucking arms out of their sockets trying to attack me. This kid is fucked up, man." Rick explained. "But I think I can fix it. I've made a cure using an old sample of my Morty's blood. My serum didn't kill my test-pigeons, and it did erode the chemical's protein in the blood sample I took from your Morty."

Angry-Rick frowned. His hands clenched into fists as his Morty took a few quiet, cautious steps away from him. "I made a cure too - out of your Morty's blood. It eroded the chemical's protein too, and didn't kill my test-rats."

"I made mine faster." Rick shrugged.

"Mine was done yesterday." Angry-Rick growled.

"Mine was too." Rick told him.

"I don't want the cure." Angry-Morty spoke up, interrupting this verbal dispute before it became physical.

"What?" Angry-Rick growled, grabbing the front of his grandson's shirt and dragging him down into the basement with the other Rick and Morty. "Why?" He looked over toward Rick and shoved his hands against his chest. "Why doesn't he want the cure? What did you do? This is why we never relied on fucking heroin... You dumb sack of shit... You fucked up my Morty! I knew I should have just demanded I get the right one back. God damn it!" He growled, punching Rick in the face.

"Your Morty was fucked up when I met him, dipshit!" Rick growled back, punching the man in the ribs so that he stumbled a few paces backward.

"He wanted to be cured yesterday, you fucking drug-addict piece of shit!" Angry-Rick countered, grabbing Rick's neck and squeezing.

Rick felt a growl in his throat as he began to grow tired of this. He shoved Rick back again, punching him across the face and then kicking him so that he fell back against the basement's wall. "Give him the fucking cure then, idiot. You think he's gonna stop you?" Rick suggested.

A look of pure rage filled Angry-Rick's eyes as he struggled to stand and as Rick fished around in his lab-coat for his stun device. As Angry-Rick regained his footing and lunged forward again, Rick pulled out the device and stuck it against the man's neck, stunning him in the same manner he'd used to subdue Angry-Morty before.

The man collapsed onto the floor and remained there as Rick exhaled and took a step back. "God damn..." He grumbled. "I see why it took this fucker eighteen months to come up with a cure. Poor dumbass can't focus on anything but beating the shit out of everyone he sees." He turned around and looked at the two Mortys who stood behind him. They both looked nervous.

"I really don't want the cure, Rick." Angry-Morty reminded him. "At least when I'm angry, I don't feel guilty. I can't feel how I feel now for the rest of my life."

Rick frowned. "You'll get over it, kid... You've just got to process it... Maybe repress it. You haven't dealt with this yet. You'll get over it eventually, but you haven't given yourself a chance to."

Angry-Morty shook his head and sniffed back tears. "I don't feel like there's any answer that's going to work... I'll either be angry or sad. I can't have it any other way."

"Welcome to fucking reality, kid." Rick raised an eyebrow and stared at him with a small smirk.

Angry-Morty didn't seem to find any humor in Rick's somewhat dark joke. "I don't think I like reality then..."

"Nobody does." Rick told him.

Nodding, Angry Morty looked down as though accepting some kind of tragic fate.

With a sigh, Rick fished around in his lab-coat for his cure. He had two syringes - one for Angry-Rick and one for Angry-Morty. He couldn't force them to take the cures... Well, he could, but he didn't really want to. Rick wasn't really into controlling people if it didn't somehow serve him, and these two remaining angry and violent forever wasn't really something that would affect him in any way. "Just take these then." He spoke as he offered Angry-Morty the two syringes. Do whatever you feel like you need to do. It's not my job to save every fucking Rick and Morty out there. Save yourselves from this hell, or don't. It's not really my problem."

Angry-Morty nodded slowly as though contemplating what Rick said.

"You've got to cure yourselves, Morty." Morty spoke up in a small voice, putting his hand cautiously on the other Morty's shoulder.

Rick frowned, but stood back, waiting to see if his grandson could do what Rick could not - convince a heartbroken Morty that he deserved to live a normal life without feeling angry all the time, without being beat up every day, without feeling guilt over things out of his control.

Angry-Morty shook his head. "Aren't you pissed at me? At my Rick? I punched you in the face for no reason. And Rick... Well, I assume all this is from him." he gestured at Morty, indicating all the bruises covering his body.

"You didn't mean to. You guys couldn't help it. The cure will get you back to normal. You won't be like this anymore... and maybe, if it helps, you could even think of these people - the ones you were, or... y-you know, the ones you are right now... They're not you. Once you're back to normal, you can look at who you were as someone else entirely. The chemical-version of you. Chemical-Rick beat me up. Chemical-Morty punched me in the face. Not you. Not him." Morty explained.

Angry-Morty shook his head. "You can forgive me for hitting you. You can forgive Rick for chaining you up down here and abusing you... I don't know if I can forgive myself for other things I did. Worse things."

"But those weren't you either." Morty frowned.

"I don't know..." Angry-Morty sighed. "I can feel myself getting more and more irritated with you... I guess I need to decide what to do before I get too pissed off to even function..."

"Um... yeah..." Morty offered a small, nervous laugh. "And before he wakes up." He nodded toward Angry-Rick who was passed out on the floor.

Angry-Morty offered a small smile back and looked around the room for a minute. After a moment, he glanced back toward Rick. "I think I should use the cure my Rick made."

"I can almost guarantee you he and I made the same fucking thing." Rick explained with an annoyed frown. "We're from different dimensions, but just look at everything we did without ever speaking to each other. Cure made out of my Morty's blood. Tested it on small animals... tested it against your blood to see if it killed the chemical's protein. I highly doubt the cures are anything but fully identical."

Angry-Morty nodded and looked down at the two syringes in his hands.

Rick took his portal gun back out of his lab coat and created a portal to take him and Morty home. He gestured for Morty to go first, watching as the boy looked over his shoulder at the other Morty and offered him a small smile before stepping through the green light.

Rick paused before following, glancing back toward Angry-Morty and putting his hand lightly on the boy's shoulder. "Do what you need to do... but remember, you can live with all sorts of dark shit in the back of your mind. Nobody's ever gonna feel fully content unless they're completely fuckin' stupid... and I know Mortys are dumb sometimes, but not that dumb. You're smart enough that being aware of the world and your place in it's gonna be painful sometimes. You get it enough that you're not ever gonna have that blissful ignorant happiness you had when you were a fuckin' infant. No one gets that. No one who's worth a shit. But you can still be okay. You can have a good life. It's not going to be a fairytale, but you'll be fine. Trust me."

"Okay." Angry-Morty told him with a small smile.

"I'm sure your Rick will have already thought of this, but just in case - remind him that you can fuckin' switch dimensions. You don't have to stay here in this nightmare shithole." Rick reminded him.

Angry-Morty laughed. "Alright..."

Rick nodded. "Well... I better go. Gotta make sure my Morty's not doin' anything dumb back home."

"Okay..." Angry-Morty spoke. "Um... Rick?"

"Yeah?" Rick raised an eyebrow and looked down at the boy.

"Thanks... Thanks for helping us, for not sending me back - for giving me a chance even when I was violent and frustrating... For telling me things would be okay, even when it really feels like they won't be-" Angry-Morty droned on and on.

"Yeah... Okay..." Rick cleared his throat.

"I mean it, Rick. Thank you." Morty said once again.

"Just wanted to see if I could make the cure faster than he did." Rick said. He didn't need this kid thinking Rick was anything that he wasn't. He shrugged and walked through the portal. He had enough on his plate mentoring one Morty. He certainly didn't need another.

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	9. Chapter 9

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Chapter 9 Characters:

POV: Rick C-137

Other, in order of appearance: Morty C-137, Angry-Rick, Angry Morty

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Chapter 9

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By the time Rick had finally followed Morty back to their own dimension, Morty had already taken the liberty of lying down on the garage floor. Rick stepped out of the glowing green portal and looked down at his grandson. Ordinarily, he would have assumed Morty was being dramatic, but considering how intensely violent even a tiny little Morty was from that dimension, and considering Morty was stuck there with an intensely violent version of Rick - who was larger and stronger, Rick wasn't so sure Morty wasn't seriously hurt.

"You okay?" Rick asked as he kicked Morty's foot lightly. The boy's eyes were closed and he was lying down on the floor like it was the only thing he'd ever wanted to do in his life.

"Yeah." Morty exhaled tiredly, but kept his eyes closed. "What a messed up place..."

"I know." Rick frowned. "Hopefully the cures work and they'll get out of there... but if not..." He shrugged. "You can't save 'em all, Morty."

"But we saved these ones." Morty sat up and stared at Rick with wide eyes.

Rick stared back. That wasn't really a confirmed fact at this point, but maybe he should let Morty have this one - allow him to believe they'd saved those sad, pathetic versions of themselves and that thanks to Rick and Morty, these lesser versions of them would have happy lives from now on. It wasn't true... The dreadfully guilt-stricken Morty was right - he wasn't going to be able to put behind him the fact that most of his family was dead and his actions or failure to act could have altered that fact. He could live with it - just like Rick and everyone else lived with guilt and regret, but it wasn't going to be cake.

"The cure's real, right?" Morty looked skeptical now. "You didn't give them a fake cure, did you? You wouldn't do that...?"

Rick smirked. "No. I wouldn't do that. It's a legitimate cure."

"Good." Morty's shoulders sagged a bit as though tension was melting off of him. "I've never seen a more desperate, sad version of you... I mean, he was really awful and violent. He scared the hell out of me... but I could see in his eyes that he was trying not to hurt me. He just couldn't stop... But now he can. You saved him from that. And his Morty too."

Rick nodded. "His Morty was a really messed up little fucker. He wanted to fight me so bad that he was almost breaking his own arms in an effort to escape from my hands so he could attack me. I had to dose him up on heroin to get him to fucking calm down."

Morty grimaced. "That seems really unethical, Rick."

"It worked. He didn't dislocate his arms or wrists when I tied him down while working on the cure." Rick explained.

Morty's mouth dropped open. "You tied him down? Wow... You have no room to criticize that other Rick. You guys are practically identical even when he's possessed by a crazy anger chemical. Rick, that's awful... That Morty was really messed up, and you drugged him and tied him up? Jesus, Rick..."

Rick rolled his eyes. "Of course it sounds bad when you put it like that, Morty. First of all, I'm not like that other Rick. Have you seen yourself? You look like someone beat the shit out of you - like full on fucking child abuse... In fact, if you go to school on monday, Child Protective Services is probably gonna fuckin' come and take you away. I do some pretty questionable shit, but I'm not that bad. Fuck, Morty. That's harsh to even compare me to that shit..."

"Well..." Morty looked down as though ashamed.

"And I tied him up so he wouldn't hurt himself. I was holding onto him so he wouldn't attack me and he just couldn't stop fighting. He was about to dislocate his shoulder. You saw how he was."

"I guess." Morty frowned. "And I guess the other Rick was only tying me up so I'd stay out of his way - so he wouldn't be tempted to hit me or anything."

Rick stared down at him. That sounded so fucked up... But they both knew the whole story about the rage-toxin. And it was clearly a real story.

"Anyway, I'm just glad they'll be okay now. You want to go watch tv or something?" Morty wondered.

"Yeah." Rick agreed. "I'll meet you in there in a minute."

Morty headed off toward the living room while Rick made his way into the garage. If he didn't feed his test-pigeons now, he'd probably forget to do it at all today. Unfortunately, living things were a lot of work - even small animals whose only use to him was to test scientific experiments and drugs on.

He opened the garage door and flipped on the lights as he walked across the space toward his pigeon cages. Rick made it to the middle of the garage before he could see the birds clearly. As soon as he saw his little test subjects lying on their backs at the bottom of the cage, with their feet sticking up and their toes curled stiffly, Rick stopped in his tracks, frowning and staring across the room at them.

"Oh shit..." Rick hissed quietly to himself.

He felt around in his lab coat, gripped his portal gun, input the coordinates, and fired it ahead of himself, stepping through immediately and looking around the dimly-lit basement.

The Rick and Morty he'd just left here sitting together in the corner of the basement now. Both seemed calm and docile.

"I fucked up!" Rick announced. "My test pigeons are dead. Did you use the cure I made, or his?"

The other Rick stared back at him, shaking his head slightly as though amused. He hugged his arm around his Morty's shoulders. "We used mine."

"Oh." Rick exhaled and closed his eyes for a moment. "Jesus Christ... I'm fuckin' sorry, you guys. I don't know where I went wrong. Those birds survived a full day, but they're super fuckin' dead right now. My cure is a no-go. So don't use it on anybody unless you hate their fuckin' guts. Sorry."

"I think we made the exact same cure, Rick." The other Rick spoke up again.

Rick shook his head. "You better hope not."

"I think I did. Same exact serum." Angry-Rick repeated. "My test-rats are dead too."

Rick frowned. "Well... I guess we've got to come up with a cure for the cure then... We better hurry. Come here. Let me take a blood sample from each of you."

"No. We're okay with this." Angry-Rick told him.

"I finally feel calm for real." Angry-Morty commented.

"Because you're fucked up on heroin and the serum - it calmed you down - that's literally what it was fucking designed to do... It's just gonna kill you too." Rick explained.

"I made this choice before I ever even tried the serum. I saw my Rick's dead rats. I wanted to die too." Angry-Morty explained.

"But you're high on heroin..." Rick frowned. "If I'd have known it was gonna make you suicidal..." he trailed off.

"It didn't. I've been feeling like this all along, like everything that has happened has been too much.. like there's no end, but that an end is all I'm waiting for. I was never gonna feel completely calm and content ever again unless there's an end in sight." Angry-Morty told him. "Even before, when you gave me that drug, I felt calmer, but still anxious and upset. Nothing but death can make me feel okay. I feel better now, just knowing that this is finally gonna be over."

Rick shook his head, almost feeling tears in his eyes, but keeping them back. He couldn't let these people see that he cared about this. "Seriously? After all this shit... You guys are just gonna let yourselves fuckin' die?"

"Why shouldn't we, Rick?" The other Rick wondered. "Our family's dead. We can't escape that - we can run as far as the infinite realities allows, but that still happened. Irreversible damage was done. We both feel content to allow this to be the end, so just let it be. There's more Ricks and Mortys. This shouldn't be a loss to you."

"It's not." Rick scowled from Angry-Rick to Angry-Morty, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible. "There's only one Rick and Morty I give a fuck about, and it's not you guys."

"For someone who doesn't give a fuck, you sure did try hard. Making that cure in one fuckin' day... And you sure were fast scrambling back here to try to save us when you noticed your pigeons died." Angry-Rick smirked.

"Because I wanted to make a cure that worked - for science. I'm a scientist. Idiot." Rick frowned. "Like you said, there's plenty of other Ricks and Mortys."

"There certainly are. Less damaged ones - or ones who are more willing to live with their damage. I'm exhausted. Morty's exhausted. We're ready to be done." Angry-Rick nodded and leaned his head back against the wall with a somewhat pleased smile on his face.

Rick exhaled an exasperated sigh. "Ugh... Okay then..." He frowned and shrugged. "You're really sure? I could probably still come up with something if you change your mind."

They both nodded. "We're sure. Thank you for trying, Rick." The other Rick told him. "And for being patient with my Morty even when he was trying to beat the shit out of you. You're a good man."

Rick forced a laugh. "Shut up... Narcissist."

The other Rick laughed too. "Take good care of your Morty. Tell him I'm sorry I hurt him. He didn't deserve that. I never wanted that to happen."

"He knows..." Rick frowned. "Sorry this happened to you guys..."

"Don't feel bad for us." Angry-Morty spoke up.

"I don't." Rick lied.

Angry-Morty smiled a small, knowing smile. "I know. Thanks, Rick. You should get back to your Morty."

"Yeah... I should." Rick agreed. He pulled out his portal gun and created a portal to get back home, but glanced back at the others before leaving. He really didn't know what else to say to them. They weren't the first Rick and Morty he'd seen die, or even the first he'd seen give up on life and specifically choose the alternative... But they might have just been the most depressing case he'd seen, and were most certainly the ones he'd made the tragic mistake of getting too personally invested in. He offered them a small wave and stepped through his portal.

Rick paced back over to his pigeons, opening the cage door and picking the cage up. He tipped it toward the garbage can, allowing the stiff bird-corpses to topple out into the bin. Rick paused for a moment before cramming the whole cage into the bin. He threw his spare cure vials in after it, inhaled a deep, calming breath, and then made his way toward the living room. He sat down next to Morty and stared at the tv.

"Took you long enough." Morty grumbled. "How do you get the inter-dimensional cable box to work?"

Rick adjusted a setting with the remote and then tossed it toward his grandson. "There you go."

"Thanks. What were you doing anyway?" Morty wondered, but continued staring at the television screen. "I'm exhausted." He yawned.

"I was just, uh... Letting my pigeons go..." Rick told him.

"Really?" Morty frowned and looked over at him. He looked as tired as he claimed to be. He'd been through a lot during the past day. Rick didn't have the heart to tell him it was all for nothing.

"They've been through enough, right?" Rick shrugged. "Can't test stuff on 'em forever. They can go live their lives now... Do bird things or whatever."

Morty laughed and leaned back against the couch. "Ha ha... Yeah. I wonder if they'll go have baby pigeons. They'll get to have a whole new life now."

"Um hm." Rick frowned and watched as Morty closed his eyes and settled down against the couch. He'd sure been eager to watch television considering he wasn't even doing it. Maybe it wasn't about the tv though... Maybe he just wanted to be with Rick.

"It's kinda scary to think those Rick and Morty could have easily been us." Morty commented in a slow, tired voice.

"Yeah." Rick agreed.

"I think about that every time we meet other Ricks and Mortys. Because basically, if all the dimensions were the same - if the same natural stuff happened in all of them, we'd all be the same - make the same choices, the same mistakes, succeed and fail in the same way. Little things here and there change the different dimensions, but their world could have just as easily been ours. That could have been us beating each other up all the time." Morty noted.

"You're right." Rick frowned. "I mean, I'd like to think I'm smarter than that. I wouldn't let rage consume me."

"Neither did the other Rick, but it's hard, I guess. He could only hold back so much." Morty yawned again and leaned lightly against Rick's arm. "At least they'll be okay now."

Rick stared down at his grandson. It was scary seeing how easily the other Morty had resigned himself to death. Morty was right. That could have easily been their world... which meant that Morty could have easily been his Morty. Rick already knew his own suicidal thoughts. He knew how fucked up he was... He didn't know Mortys could succumb to those thoughts so easily. If that Morty could decide he wanted to die, any Morty could, under the right circumstances - or rather, the wrong ones.

"Make sure you don't ever give up, Morty." Rick spoke in a low tone, almost hoping Morty would be too tired to hear him. "Shit's never so bad that you can't come back from it."

"I know. I won't." Morty's voice was still small.

Rick put his arm around Morty's shoulders and hugged him close, noticing Morty smile as he did so. He wouldn't ordinarily show this degree of affection, but he couldn't bring himself not to this time.

xxxxxx


	10. Chapter 10

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Chapter 10 Characters:

POV: Angry-Rick

Other: Angry Morty

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Chapter 10

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Ricked leaned his head back against the basement wall as he pulled Morty closer. It was strange to realize Morty had come up with the best solution to this before he did. Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? Was it just because he didn't have a clear head? Did anger make him that irrational?

A part of him felt genuinely upset that his Morty had chosen to die. The kid had taken the serum before Rick woke back up from the stun the other Rick had hit him with. And Morty knew full-well what he was doing too - he'd seen the dead rats in Rick's cage and had chosen to take the serum anyway. He was done with this nightmare, and Rick couldn't really blame him.

As soon as Rick had woken and realized what had happened, he'd honestly panicked for a minute, just like the other Rick had. He wondered if Morty realized that the cure would kill him. He wondered if the boy fully understood the consequences. He wondered if Morty was taking this as a way out while feeling dreadful and defeated. As soon as he talked to the kid, however, he realized it wasn't quite as depressing as it seemed. Morty hadn't accepted this fate with tears and dread. He seemed content - finally.

Rick was okay with this outcome too. Living was painful - especially knowing that he'd failed to fix this mess soon enough to save his daughter and grand daughter (and even Jerry.) Jumping dimensions wasn't good enough. Beth and Summer mattered to him... His Beth and Summer. Moving on knowing he was part of the reason they were gone forever would have been hard - possible, but hard.

Most of all, Rick was tired. He hadn't realized how tired he was until he injected himself with the "cure" serum he'd concocted and felt his anger dissipate. All those months of pure rage combined with the effort it took him to hold back and keep himself from killing his grandson and the effort it took to keep Morty from killing him or seriously injuring himself in the process of trying was exhausting. It had taken its toll... Rick just hadn't noticed until now.

He could tell Morty was tired too. The poor kid had suffered a lot and clearly felt a deep regret and guilt he wasn't ever going to be able to let go of. With their choices being either living with a deep, painful, permanent blackness in their hearts or taking a serum that would slowly and painlessly end their suffering, neither of them had to think long before deciding upon the same fate.

All they had to do now was sit together down here and wait for the end. Rick certainly wasn't scared by that thought. He felt extremely content... He hoped Morty felt the same.

He glanced down at the top of the boy's head. Morty was cuddled up against him, staring silently at the cage on the other side of the room - the cage which held three dead rats.

"You doing okay?" Rick wondered.

Morty nodded slightly, but remained quiet.

"If you changed your mind, I can probably still figure something out." Rick reminded him. "I think maybe where we went wrong was that we were too focused on curing rage when we should have been working on impulse control. Everyone's full of rage all the time - they just suppress it and don't act on it. I think that other Rick and I both made the same mistake. We kinda killed anger itself, which is too big a part of what makes humans and other animals alive... I can come up with something that puts that rage back and gives us more control over it. I could try at least, if you want me to."

Morty shook his head. "That's okay. I'm okay."

Rick frowned. "You sure? I can try to fix this... You don't have to die - and if you keep going, I will too. I'll stay with you. I'll go with you. Whatever you decide."

Morty leaned back away from him a bit and stared up at him with a frown. "You're putting that choice on me? I don't need anyone else's blood on my hands, Rick..."

"No... I mean, I'm fine with dying... No one but me decides I'm ready to die... I'm just saying, I'd be fine either way. I can live with all that pain. I can handle it. Or I could die and not have to handle it. Either decision is one I could have easily chosen on my own, so you're not deciding my fate. Just decide yours, and I'll be okay with doing the same."

With an exhale, Morty leaned back against Rick's shoulder and stared across the room again.

Rick nodded, taking that as Morty choosing he didn't want to try to survive this. He hoped the kid was really sure about this choice, because it wasn't likely going to be long now before their organs started shutting down. The doses they had taken were stronger than what he'd given the rats. They might not even have the rest of the hour at this point.

"You know, Morty..." Rick continued, trying to keep this moment as light as possible. "You know, we're lucky we got to spend so much time together and go on so many adventures. I've heard of Ricks and Mortys who were absent from each other's lives for a long, long time... And some Ricks and Mortys haven't even met each other. Did you know that?"

Morty shrugged.

"I've met a lot of Ricks in my life... and besides this whole chemical toxin thing, we've had things pretty good as far as our relationship goes. We get along better than a lot of 'em. Hell, even when we both felt the constant urge to beat the shit out of each other, we probably had a better relationship than half the Ricks and Mortys out there." Rick explained.

Morty leaned more heavily against him, lying his head down against Rick's shoulder and closing his eyes. Rick could feel his own body relaxing too - likely shutting down, preparing for eternal sleep.

"I was there when you were born, Morty." Rick told him. "That's how long you and I have known each other. Wasn't too long after you were born, your dumb dad ran down to the gift shop to buy some meaningless crap and your mom was exhausted, so she was sleeping. So I held you, and you were sleeping a lot, but for a couple minutes, you woke up, and just stared up at me. It was kinda weird, but you just stared and stared."

Morty remained silent as he stared ahead, breathing slow, steady breaths.

"I didn't have that kind of connection with Summer." Rick explained. "I mean, I liked her, but we just didn't have the connection you and I always had."

He could feel Morty nod slightly, but the boy said nothing.

With an exhale, Rick pulled Morty tighter against himself with his arm around the boy's shoulders. Maybe he shouldn't have brought up Summer or Morty's parents. Maybe he needed to change the subject entirely, to something more lighthearted and impersonal.

"That other Rick was a fuckin' trip, hm?" Rick laughed. Morty let out a very tiny half-laugh as well, which brought a smile to Rick's face. "Remember back before the toxin? You thought I was irresponsible and a bad influence? Hey... at least I never gave you heroin."

"Yeah." Morty agreed with a small chuckle. "And he's not even being influenced by any kind of war chemical. He's just like that on his own..."

"Well... I mean, Ricks, you know? We're not exactly the best role models. If any of us were though, I guess it'd be me... Since I'm the smartest of the Ricks." Rick reminded him.

Morty shrugged. Maybe he didn't believe Rick was really the smartest of his kind. There was really no evidence to prove it to be the case. Rick just felt superior to everyone else - including other Ricks. They probably all felt the same way though - that's how Ricks were.

"I wonder if my cure killed the rats faster than the other Rick's." Rick mused. "He was testing his cure on pigeons. What an idiot, right? I mean, at least use a mammal... But my cure was probably better than his either way - probably would have killed pigeons instantly. He said he had those pigeons for a whole day, didn't he? My rats died faster, so I'll bet my serum was stronger, better." Rick guessed.

With a small laugh, Morty shook his head slightly. "Probably."

Rick smiled, happy Morty was finally speaking again. It wouldn't be long before they were both gone. He wanted to make sure Morty felt okay about this. The last thing he wanted was for this all to end while Morty was distressed in any way. He wanted the boy to die happy.

"Rick?" Morty spoke in a small, uncertain voice.

Swallowing, Rick frowned. He hoped Morty wasn't changing his mind now... It was very likely too late. "Yeah?"

"Do you think... like, when you die... that..." He hesitated and exhaled. "I mean... You're probably going to think this sounds dumb, but like, is there anything else after?"

"Like an afterlife or something? Ghosts?" Rick frowned.

"Yeah... Or like heaven." Morty mused. "I mean, I know you don't believe in God. And maybe I don't either. I don't know... But do you think there's something?"

Rick exhaled. He most certainly didn't think there was something after this. Maybe it was the wrong time to remind Morty of that particular belief of his.

"It's okay, Rick." Morty laughed a small laugh. "I guess I kind of already knew what your answer would be. It's not like it makes a difference what we think or believe. There's either something after this or there isn't."

"Guess we'll find out." Rick shrugged.

"Yeah." Morty laughed. "I'm tired."

"I know you are." Rick laid his chin on top of Morty's head and hugged him tighter.

Rick closed his eyes and felt himself falling asleep, or dying, or maybe both at the same time. He had so many things in this life that he regretted. Morty clearly did too. A part of him wondered if this was yet another mistake... Another part of him realized it didn't matter. He wasn't going to be around to regret it.

As he continued holding his grandson close, he felt the boy's breaths becoming fewer, lighter, and knew his own were doing the same. This was the end.

"Good night, Morty." Rick said in a voice that was almost a whisper.

"Good night Grandpa Rick." Morty said back. "I love you."

"I-" Rick exhaled a slow, weak breath. "Love you too, Morty..."

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THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I know this story had a sort of bittersweet ending and I hope I didn't break anyone's heart... But the ending was in the title the whole time, so you can't be that surprised. Our original Rick and Morty are still alive and well. I didn't technically kill any major characters. Other Ricks and Mortys really do die all the time on the show... You had to have seen it coming.
> 
> Also, I'm finishing up a 24-chapter Rick and Morty story right now that you're gonna love if you give it a chance. It's like 75,000 words at the moment, so you better start getting excited. It's traumatizing and sad with little fluffies here and there as needed. I've been writing it for about a month and I'm pretty proud of it. I also wrote another shorter one that I'm not sure about... but I wasn't sure about this one either and you all seem to have enjoyed it... so maybe I should just shut up and post them both.
> 
> Stay tuned, and thank you for reading and commenting on this one. I appreciate you guys a lot. :)


End file.
